I borrowed this from one of my favorite authors. It applies to just about everything, and I felt compelled to share it this morning.
Peace, people.
Vigil Auntie Meets Ms. Kitty Claws
All great superheroes have an origin story. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and became Spiderman. Superman was born on the dying planet of Krypton and was sent to earth by his concerned parents in an effort to save their infant son.
Then there’s Vigil Auntie who came into her powers out of necessity when confronted with the knowledge of a cabal of cats whose plan for world domination includes cornering the market on catnip and urinating on any and every surface imaginable. Vigil Auntie’s powers are legion, but primarily include the ability to find and eradicate unwelcome puddles of cat pee wherever they might be found.
Our intrepid superhero once found herself taken in by an innocent looking feline named Patches at a vulnerable time in Vigil Auntie’s schedule. Fresh from her morning shower, she noted that Patches was sweetly drowsing on a bathroom rug,
“Ah!” thought Vigil Auntie. “This would be an ideal time to apply the new medication meant to prevent Patches from peeing on stuff. I’ll just put some of the cream on my finger and place it in the fold of her ear as prescribed. She’ll never even know I’m here, and the cabal’s plot will be spoiled.”
No sooner had Vigil Auntie squeezed a dollop of cream onto her index finger than Patches opened her eyes a slit. Determined to apply the medicine, the superhero placed a calming hand onto Patches’s back but was met with a hiss.
“Now, now! I’m not going to hurt you sweet kitty,” she whispered. “Just hold still for a…wait. Dammit. Come here.”
Forgetting she was completely naked and vulnerable to attack, Vigil Auntie scooped up Patches who in the blink of an eye became the notorious villain, Ms. Kitty Claws, determined to prevent any attempt at limiting her elimination locations.
Undeterred by Ms. Kitty Claws’ whipcord speed and razor sharp talons raking across her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs, Vigil Auntie successfully applied the medication as directed.
“Take that, you foul villain!”‘she cried in triumph, allowing the cat to escape.
“Bwahaha!” laughed the cat. “You might’ve won this battle, but victory in war will be mine. And just look at the damage I inflicted. Imagine how much worse it will be when you lose!”
Reluctantly Vigil Auntie look down at her naked form. Scratches, scratches everywhere and blood dripping from her thumb.
“My sacrifice was worth it. Next time, just you wait. As God is my witness I’ll never fight naked again.”
As Ms. Kitty Claws slinked off into the hallway she was heard to say, “I should really go pee on something, but oddly enough, I don’t feel the need anymore. Curses! Foiled again!”
Peace, and nonsense, people!
Vigil Auntie
Lesson Learned
Never, under any circumstances, should one attempt to apply a topical medicine to a cat’s ear fold while naked. That is all.
Desperate Times
“Desperate times breed desperate measures”–William Shakespeare
On most days I have lunch alone, either here at Doright Manor or at one of a handful of Tallahassee cafes. Now, before you feel sorry for me you need to know that I enjoy my solitary lunches. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy having lunch with Studly Doright or with a friend, but when I dine alone I pull my Kindle out of my purse and read. And there are few things I’d rather do than read.
One day last week I had a whole list of errands to run, most of them in Tallahassee. I planned the most efficient route and left home around 10 a.m. with the goal of having lunch at the best little vegan eatery in the world, Sweet Pea Cafe.
With my errands halfway done, I drove to Sweet Pea and ordered that day’s special, Tempeh Temptation. I found a table and reached into my purse for my Kindle. Hmmm. No Kindle. I searched every zippered compartment with no luck.
“That’s okay,” I said to myself. “Just read from the Kindle app on your phone.”
“You’re so brilliant!” I answered.
“I know.” I said.
Unfortunately my brilliant self had managed to leave my phone at home as well.
As I waited for the meal to arrive I wondered how I was supposed to eat without a book in hand. How does one do such a thing?
“You can do this,” I gently reminded myself. “Just be more mindful of your meal. Pay attention to every bite. People watch. Listen to the music playing. Enjoy the experience.”
“Shut up! I NEED my book. Or just something, anything, to read.”
Gee, one of us needs anger management therapy.
In the midst of my angst I noticed a woman who’d been reading from a book as she dined at the table nearest mine. She’d finished her meal and as I watched from the corner of my eye saw that she was preparing to leave.
I hesitated for a second before asking, “Excuse me, this is going to sound weird and slightly desperate, by I don’t suppose you have an extra book that I might buy from you.”
Now, the beauty of this is she totally understood my question. The sad part is that she’d just returned from a trip to see her sister and had given the sister a box full of books that she usually carried in her car.
We laughed about our respective reading addictions. She apologized for not having a book to offer. I laughed and told her no big deal while underneath my smile I was thinking, “Couldn’t you at least have saved one book for us, I mean, me?”
She left the cafe as my meal arrived and I began to eat in a desultory fashion. The food was excellent as always, but damn it, how could I enjoy myself when there were intrepid space explorers trapped on an exoplanet in my book, and how the heck was I going to save them if I couldn’t read the remainder of chapter 55 while I chewed?
That’s when an angel came to my rescue. The woman who’d taken a box of books to her sister came triumphantly back into the cafe waving a book.
“Look what I found,” she smiled.
“It must’ve fallen out of the box. It’s yours if you want it….”
I wanted to hug her, but I restrained myself, offering effusive thanks as I tried to pay her.
“Absolutely not!” she said. “I don’t know how anyone can eat alone without a good book for company.”
A true hero, that woman.
I opened the book and began a new adventure. John Grisham paired quite nicely with Tempeh Temptation.
Peace, people.
Pee Patrol
Seems like all I do lately is clean up “accidents” left by our younger cat, Patches. From the time I get out of bed in the morning I’m on constant alert for the smell (Oh, the smell!🤢) and the telltale wet spots of cat urine.
When I return to Doright Manor after a trip to the store or lunch with friends the first thing I do is patrol the entire house, spray bottle in hand, to identify and eradicate cat pee. Before we get into bed and in the middle of the night I do walk-throughs. I’m paranoid and exhausted.
Late yesterday evening, for the first time ever she relieved herself on Studly Doright’s side of the bed. Thank goodness the bedspread prevented the liquid from penetrating to the mattress, but it was a near miss. I was up late doing laundry and changing the bedding. Studly was not pleased.
So, even though she was examined for a urinary tract infection in October, Patches and I are at the vet’s again, hoping to find an answer.
Wish us both luck.
Patches is underneath the calming blanket, and is refusing requests from all paparazzi.
Peace, people.
Christmas Decor at Doright Manor
Doright Manor isn’t a fancy place. Studly Doright and I seldom (never) entertain, and neither of us is overly concerned with having a spotless house.
I do enjoy playing with decorative items, though. And while my styling taste is on the eclectic side it’s also not expensive. All those years of having no money taught me how to make do with the decorating resources at hand.
Here’s a little tour of a few of my Christmas vignettes:
The Santa above was purchased for me when I was about four. When Mom passed away it was one of the few items I wanted. The old guy is getting pretty worn, but he’s my favorite decoration.
This Christmas bear would greet guests at the front door if we ever had any. I bought him at a post-holiday sale many years ago.
My mismatched Christmas village is mostly comprised of items I’ve found at garage sales. I like that the items are built to different scales. Imperfection pleases me.
Studly Doright has yet to notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the main hallway. I’ve gone unkissed for several days now. Well not exactly, but no kissing has occurred under the mistletoe.
My preppy reindeer couple and stylized Christmas trees are relative newcomers to Doright Manor. I need a backdrop for them, but nothing has caught my eye yet.
Our main tree is perfect in an imperfect way. I used to do a fancy schmancy tree, but it was sort of boring.
Above are stockings that SHOULD have been given to my children when they started their own families, but I cry every time I think of letting them go. The bear was bought for our daughter’s first Christmas and the reindeer for our son’s. Neither of them holds many goodies, which was a good thing in those years we were so poor.
Since we don’t have a fireplace, our stockings are hung on the bookshelves with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. From left are Studly’s, mine, and the two cats’.
That’s our dining table with Santa and a single reindeer.
Below is my gigantic angel overseeing the nativity. Almost a Gulliver’s Travels situation going on here, but I love my nativity scene.
Scout was interested in my placement of each piece, so I took the opportunity to tell her the story of how Jesus came to be born in a stable and placed in a manger.
Here she is, looking for the baby. Well, that’s my story anyway.
My cowboy snowman is fittingly in the Texas guest room.
This Santa is in one of the guest bathrooms. He is quite discreet when folks need to use the facilities.
On my kitchen hutch is a party of reindeer being hosted by my naughty elf on the shelf. They raise a ruckus in the wee hours.
That’s about it, I suppose. Thanks for taking the tour.
Peace on earth, and good will towards men, people!
The Case of the Missing Mary
The Snowman Always Rings Twice
It’s time for my second annual snowman post, so sit back, chillax, as the young ones say, and enjoy.
I’m fairly sure I didn’t include any of these last year, but even if I did, none of you would remember it either.
You have to love the literary references:
And the silly stuff:
I live in Florida. These are my only snowmen for the whole winter.
Peace, people!
Chanel #5 Apology
Why was a Chanel #5 apology necessary?
Well, when you stayed up most of the night because your husband was snoring like the proverbial freight train, and when you tried to sleep on the sofa it smelled like perhaps the youngest cat had peed on one end and the more you explored the more you realized that the damned cat had pissed on EVERYTHING including two knitted throws, your husband’s recliner, the ever loving Christmas tree skirt, and a pair of sneakers, so you had to scrub and clean and cry and scrub some more before you finally fell back into your bed because maybe, just maybe your husband’s snoring had quieted down, but no sooner had you settled in than the bull elephant-like trumpeting began anew, so you said “screw it” and opened your kindle to read, but you just had three pages left in this book, so you had to download a new one, and there’s nothing on your wish list, so you had to search for just the right book, and you found one, but now your husband had ceased snoring, so you tried to close your eyes at 4:30 a.m. when the oldest cat jumped up on the bed and began walking back and forth across your head, forcing you to turn onto your back so she can snuggle in the manner to which she’s become accustomed, and you finally fell asleep only to miss the sound of your alarm, so you threw on your clothes after a quick shower without washing your hair because you had an appointment with an orthopedic specialist clear across Tallahassee and you’d be late if you had to wash, rinse, repeat, and blow dry your hair, and as you were driving to the dr.’s office you realized you can smell cat pee, but you aren’t sure if it’s something you’ve stepped in or leaned against or, heaven forbid, your hair, or if it’s just a phantom smell from all the pee you smelled during the night, and after they X-rayed your foot and put you in an examination room you started sniffing your clothes and hair and even your shoes and socks, but you couldn’t find the source of the smell, but you remembered you had an atomizer filled with Chanel #5 in your purse so you sprayed it around your head, but more came out than you intended, so then the small exam room smelled like a brothel, and it was too late to fix it because the doctor entered and you were so exhausted that you apologized for the overwhelming smell of perfume without even mentioning the cat pee, and STILL the dr. looked at you like you were crazy, as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve smelled much worse,” and you just barely kept from saying, “Like cat piss?”
How was your morning?
Christmas, Christmas Everywhere
I needed some holiday inspiration yesterday, but where to go? Since a doctor’s appointment took me near Esposito’s, a local Tallahassee garden shop, I thought it might be a source of Christmas decorating ideas. Let me tell you, when I’m right, I’m so right.
We’ve lived in the Tallahassee area for six years now, and I’ve been in Esposito’s at least a dozen times. But never in December. I had no idea what I’ve been missing.
I’d best let you know that I’m not being compensated by Esposito’s for this or any other blog posts. I just wanted to share a cool place with my local readers. So, without further ado, and very few words, I give you Esposito’s Christmas shop.
Now, the cutest thing I encountered wasn’t a decorated tree or a gilded ornament.
It was an adorable cat who’d snuggled into a stack of tree skirts. She allowed me to pet her before giving me a look that indicated I should move on and leave her to her nap.
The Christmas village was pretty spectacular, too, but it didn’t purr.
I found a couple of things to purchase, but because they’re potential gifts for family members I won’t share the photos here. There was a piece that I think was made for me, though. Maybe someone will put it in my stocking.
It’s the third sign from the top. Tailor made for me.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 