A Rain of Soup Cans and Macaroni

Somewhere, sometime, I read that when you get into a car accident that whatever is in the car becomes a projectile capable of knocking you out or worse. So, being the good mama duck that I am I began covering the groceries in the back of the car with a blanket to prevent them from flying around should something terrible occur.

And since I started doing that many years ago I feel so much safer. Now I know that rather than being slowly stoned to death by a rain of soup cans and boxes of macaroni, I will face a quick death when the huge, blanket-covered wad of groceries hurls itself to the front of the car and buries me.

Quack!

Footprints At My Door

I love when the birds leave their prints behind in the snow. They are so cute!

Winter visitors

Leaving footprints at my door

Bringing winter cheer

 Quack!

Some Days It's Better Than Others.

You know, I never really enjoyed or drank coffee until the last few years. I always preferred cocoa or nothing when I wanted a warm drink. But these last few years I've embraced coffee like a long lost friend.

And although I enjoy a cup just about every day, in a perfect world where calories didn't count, I would still be loyal to cocoa. There's nothing better than a cup of chocolatey, creamy, hot cocoa! But since calories do count, and I can have a cup of coffee with cream and sugar for 100 calories or less (versus 200 or more for (decent) cocoa), I stick to coffee most of the time. And most of the time it's very tasty.

But every once in a while, as I'm drinking my daily cup at work, I grimace, finish the bitter concoction in one big swallow and rush for the breath mints. Some days it's better than others. 

Quack!

The Mighty Hand of a Plastic Disc-Shaped God

So, a couple of months ago (I know! I am so behind on these blog posts!) the hubby was puttering around the house and he heard the sounds of a cat fight in the backyard. It happens on occasion. There is a big, fat, friendly, tabby cat that owns the entire neighborhood that visits our backyard often. And since putting up a bird feeder, we also often have other cats wandering through to check out the free meals. Once in a while the cats get tangled up with each other. (While our cat watches longingly from the window).

So anyway, there was a cat fight. It stopped, but started up again a short time later so the hubby went out to see what the ruckus was about. As expected, there was a tangle of grey, white and black fur, claws flying, fur flying, terrifying cat yowling echoing across the yard. They were at the far end of the yard and he certainly didn't want to go out there and intervene but he did see a Frisbee on the deck. He picked it up, aimed and tossed it out there.

It was like something from a sci-fi movie, or a Frisbee competition. The Frisbee flew out, arced around, following the line of the fence and landed smack-dab between the two cats! It couldn't have been a more perfect throw! (My hubby is soooo athletic lucky sometimes!)

The cats, startled, started to run off, both in approximately the same direction. And, surprisingly enough, the Frisbee rolled on its side between them, following the same path. They were completely freaked out. Not only did this strange blue thing drop out of the sky between them like the hand of a plastic, disc-shaped god, but it was following them! They scattered like the wind, disappearing into the black-raspberry bushes on the back hill like smoke in a stiff breeze. Then the Frisbee, quest completed, dropped onto it's side, exhausted.

Quack!

Red Squirrels and Blue Ones and Green Ones . . .

We have several squirrels that routinely visit the bird feeder. I'm not sure exactly how many since they all look exactly alike, but it's a bunch. And when I say they all look exactly alike I'm exaggerating somewhat. We've got Rusty - he's the one with the rusty color fur across his back and in his arm pits. And then there's Buffy. He has the ears with the buff colored backs.

But wait, Rusty also has buff ear-backs. And so does that one. And that one.

And, is that Rusty? Or does Rusty have more red fur?

Needless to say, the other squirrel is named Randy. Randy as in 'Random Squirrel that is indistinguishable from every other squirrel'. 'Randy' really refers to all squirrels.

So, if we have one squirrel at the feeder, it can certainly be Rusty, because there is no one else to compare him to. But as soon as another squirrel shows up, guaranteed to be one with buff ear-backs and plenty of rust-colored fur, then suddenly we have Randy1 and Randy2.

But that doesn't stop us from debating endlessly as to whether the visiting squirrels are really Randy, or if one
is Rusty, or Buffy.

If only I could apply fur dye's from 20 feet away! They I'd be able to tell them apart.

Quack!

Banana Guilt

  There is a banana on my desk. It is looking at me. I felt guilty so I didn't eat it. I had some chocolate instead.

Quack!

I Decided to Wear my Coffee Today

The title says it all. 'Nuff said.

Quack!

Our TV Is Portal To Another World

  A few weeks ago our TV died. Were sorry to see it go, but it had lived a long and fruitful life. We moved it out of the living room and it stayed in the hallway for a few days until it was laid to rest. And that TV, that had shared so much magic with us over the years, shared a final bit of magic before leaving.

You see, it was in the hallway and there was a little space behind it. Just enough space for a small cat to squeeze through. She squeezed through that space many time each day. She would squeeze through, coming out on the other side. Then she'd circle around and squeeze through again. She did this over and over.

I think she may have been expecting to come out in Narnia. And for all I know, maybe sometimes she did. There are often times when I wander around looking for the cat and she is nowhere to be found. She could very well have travelled through a portal to another world. In fact, I'm sure that's what happened. Why else would she continue to circle the TV if not for the purpose of just waiting for the exact moment when the portal was active.

Thank you TV for giving the cat something to do.

Quack!

Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?

  When I was young (Here I go again, waxing nostalgic. You can tell me to shut up if you want. Right in the comments. Go ahead! I know you want to!) we had a lot of holiday traditions. Things like the advent calendar, candy house, cookie-baking, tree decorating, moving the wise men closer to the manger each night, etc. Lots of good memories and fun times!

But one of the funniest traditions to think back on is Christmas morning. You know how in the movies and in books and such the kids get up on Christmas morning and run downstairs and tear into their presents - wrapping paper and bows flying, boxes and tissue wrap willy-nilly, presents being extracted from boxes with wild abandon and shouts of glee?

Yeah, well, not so much. It was much more controlled and sedate when I was young. In fact, it was exactly the opposite of the way it happens in the movies. I'm not saying it was bad, just, um, different. It went like this:

• We would get up (I don't recall at what time, but I'm sure it was rather early. After all, we were excited! Santa had come!). 
• We would gaze in admiration at the tree and the pile of presents beneath it (a household with six kids always had a lot of presents beneath it). 
• We would sigh, knowing we couldn't touch anything until the moment was right. We had to wait until the parents were up. (Of course - this is a requirement in my own house today - I want to witness.)

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

And once they were up, well, we had to wait until breakfast was made - something extravagant usually like pancakes or waffles, coffee and cookies, eggs, a regular 5 course meal.

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

Then we had to wait some more until, well, I don't know, until we couldn't wait a minute more.

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

Then, Dad would meander slowly out to the living room and take his place near the tree. He would take his time and drag it out.

After much delay, he would begin to pass out gifts to the family who was anxiously bouncing on the couch in anticipation. Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?

Then, slowly. Oh so slowly. He would pass out the gifts. One at a time. Each was to be savored like a fine wine or a bit of chocolate. We would all watch as each gift was opened, anxiously awaiting our own gifts.

(Is that one for me? Is it mine? Huh? Huh? Is it?)

But it did make the whole experience last longer. And despite how funny, silly and torturous it sounds while recounting it, I wouldn't change it a bit. We all got the full experience of every gift, each bow and wrapper, and the expressions on the faces of those opening them. It may have been a bit over the top, a little much, but hey, I made it through, right? And I can tell my kids all about it and exaggerate to my hearts content because I can. 
 
Quack!

Saved By Santa

Twas the night before Christmas
And as I reached for the cat,
Lightning shot from my fingers
It knocked off my hat.

Static electricity -
Zinging from my fingers.
Prickling and sparking
Like a hive full of stingers.

And since she's a cat
wouldn't you expect,
That she would claw and hiss
until my arm was a wreck?

But no - with a glance over her shoulder,
With barely a twitch,
She regarded me as little more
Than a worm in a ditch

I breathed a sigh of relief
At the lack of spitting and claws.
I think she knows he is watching -
Good Ol' Santa Claus

 Quack!