Tag: humor

“Type A” Cat

Last week I took Gracie, our new cat, to visit the vet. The rescue organization we’d adopted her from had already given her the necessary vaccinations and even microchipped her. So this was just an introductory visit.

Sweet, crazy Gracie did not enjoy the experience, and I’m certain neither the vet or the vet tech did either. My cuddly, lovable cat went absolutely ballistic.

Do not be fooled.

I came away with a bite. The vet sustained a couple of scratches. The vet tech cowered in a corner. It was not fun.

When we finally managed to get her pinned down, the vet looked her over and said she appeared healthy, but she noticed that Gracie’s back twitched, and she asked me about her toilet and grooming behaviors.

Now, Gracie takes her grooming seriously. Sometimes her grooming sessions take thirty minutes or more and she repeats the session many times a day. When she potties she takes up to ten minutes to cover up her waste, often returning to the box just to make sure she can neither see nor smell the poo or pee. She is fastidious.

She also scratches herself quite often. My first concern was fleas, but if she’d had any when she arrived in our home they’ve long been eradicated.

I told all of this to the vet and she said, “Your cat has a Type A personality,” but she went on to say that Gracie also has Feline Hyperesthesia Syndrome, also known as Rolling Skin Syndrome. https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/cornell-feline-health-center/health-information/feline-health-topics/hyperesthesia-syndrome

Apparently in some cats the condition can result in self-mutilation! Thankfully our Gracie doesn’t seem to be incapacitated by the syndrome, and ninety percent of the time she’s very laid-back. We’re trying some pheromone diffusers to calm her rather than resorting to any prescription medications that could have nasty side effects of their own.

Gracie is such a loving cat. In the mornings she hops into bed with me and makes a dramatic flop onto my chest as if to say, “I missed you, Mom!” She follows up with a great many kitty kisses and gentle pats to my face. She’s not going to let herself be defined by any old diagnosis.

Between baths.
Helping me write this.

Peace, people!

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

If you aren’t squeamish when it comes to violence on the small screen. If your sense of humor skews to the offbeat. If you’ve finished watching a series on Netflix and aren’t quite sure what to watch next, then do I have a suggestion for you: “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs.”

Brought to us by the Coen Brothers of “No Country for Old Men” and “O Brother Where Art Thou” fame, “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” is an anthology of six short films set in the post-Civil War west in the 19th century.

Each of the stories has the feel of an O. Henry story; albeit with a good deal more blood and guts involved. I guessed the ending of the sixth tale, but only because by that point I had a feel for the twisted nature of the project.

Some big name stars added their talents to the film, including Liam Neeson, James Franco, and Tom Waits, among others. One of my favorite actors of all time, Tyne Daly, has a role in the final tale.

If I had a single complaint about “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” it would be that it ran a bit long. Maybe six vignettes were one too many; however, if asked, I couldn’t possibly choose any one of them to be left out.

Again, this anthology isn’t for everyone, but if you’re willing to take a walk on the wild side, give it a try.

Peace, people!

Frazzled

On a regular day I’m not a terribly organized person. My thoughts don’t coalesce; they flit and flutter like a pair of courting butterflies. Since election eve, though, I’ve been even more scatter-brained. My phone’s gone missing a record number of times. I’ve carried my shoes to the car thinking they were my purse, only noticing I was barefoot when I placed a foot on the brake pedal in order to start the car. I probably shouldn’t be allowed to get behind the wheel.

When Joe Biden was predicted to have won the election I thought maybe I could get my head back to it’s normal irregular operational status. I even managed to sleep seven undisturbed hours on Saturday night, Unfortunately Trump isn’t willing to concede, so I’m still frazzled.

My brain won’t settle down enough to allow me to write. I’m worried that Trump will somehow pull off the ultimate scam. He is, after all, a master scammer. Look how he’s conned millions of people into believing his lies. I don’t trust the process anymore after four years of gaslighting and projection and the undermining of our democratic process. So if tomorrow I accidentally put my phone in the oven and back my car into a wall you’ll know why.

Peace, people.

Panic! at the Audiologist

People I know and love believe I’m suffering from hearing loss. Could it be because I frequently say, “Huh?” and “What?” Or could it be because I like my music on the loud side? Regardless, after getting their feedback for a couple of years I decided it was time for me to have my hearing tested by a professional.

My appointment was Thursday afternoon. Beforehand I wondered briefly if I should have studied for a hearing test. Perhaps I could turn the radio way down low and see what I was able to hear. Yes, I know this was an absurd idea, but I’ve always been an excellent test taker due to my diligent preparatory work. I worried that perhaps this was one I might fail simply because there was no way to practice for it.

Additionally, due to election jitters I hadn’t slept much in the past two nights. Would sleep deprivation affect the outcome? Would a healthy snore be misconstrued as a test answer? If I nodded off and the ear buds fell out would that constitute failure? Sigh.

I arrived nearly an hour ahead of schedule for my appointment. At least I could demonstrate my eagerness to excel. Perhaps garner some bonus points.

They took me right back and had me sit in a chair that reminded me vaguely of those chairs one sees in prison shows. Straight-backed, padded. I was hoping there wouldn’t be a leather mask involved.

I needn’t have worried. As I sat there an assistant asked me a series of questions. I knew the answer to each and every one of them. Winning!

Then I was taken into the testing room—basically a closet with a single chair (totally unlike the one in the previous room) and some technical equipment. Nothing sinister. A different assistant hooked me up with a microphone on my collar and placed earbuds in each ear. They were surprisingly comfortable. Why can’t all earbuds fit that well?

She then left the small room, closing me up inside, and asked me several more questions via the earbuds. We began the first test in which I was to repeat a series of simple words as I heard them. No problem. I could hear all but the very quietest ones. I suspected that only a dog could hear those.

Then came the “beep” test. I’m certain there’s a technical term for it, but for my purposes beep should suffice. The assistant played a series of beeps and all I had to do was say “yes” when I heard the beep. Easy, right? Except that I found myself straining to hear something, Anything. I started doubting what I’d heard or even wondering if my mind was conjuring sounds that weren’t there.

I began perspiring profusely. My pulse pounded in my temples. My breathing became shallow and labored. I honestly thought I might pass out. My immediate thought was “panic attack”! I tried to regulate my breathing while still listening for beeps. I was a mess by the time it ended, certain I’d failed miserably.

Visions of hearing aids danced in my head. I’m not opposed to hearing aids, but I really hoped I wouldn’t yet need them.

It seems, though, that I performed much better than I’d thought. In spite of my panic I managed to only show a slight hearing loss. When I finally saw the doctor back in the first room with the prison chair he just recommended that I check again in another couple of years.

How about that? Looks like I’m still a great test taker. And my family members just need to speak up. Bunch of mumblers.

Peace, people!

An Upgrade

My corkscrew wine opener suffered a debilitating injury on Tuesday night. In my attempt to fix it I might have gotten a little carried away and now it’s what my mom might have called “all cattywampus.”

I bought a new one on Wednesday.

Out with the old!

And it’s PREMIUM. I know because it says so right on the package. By golly, I’ve moved up in the world. Let’s hope my premium product lives up to the hype. I couldn’t handle another letdown.

Peace, people!

“Take That Emily” Reblog

I love it when someone reads a blog post that I’d completely forgotten about. The post shows up in my stats and I get to read it again and remember the day I wrote it.

Take That Emily recalls a time when I encountered a snake in our backyard. I was brave that day. I’m seldom brave, so it’s worth noting.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2016/04/13/take-that-emily/

A Disaster of Epic Proportions

On election night, I broke my wine opener.

In the process of opening a bottle of red, one of the arms fell off. I found the pieces scattered about on the floor and managed to hammer the broken arm back into place. Apparently, though, my hammering was over zealous, and now the arms don’t move in the same way.

If I didn’t live in a rural neighborhood I’d climb into my car and go in search of a new opener. But it’s dark and my night vision isn’t great, so I’ll have to make do with one bottle of wine tonight. Surely that will be enough. Oh the humanity!

It’s going to be a long night.

Peace, people.

Update on Dawn of the Living Sign

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2020/11/01/dawn-of-the-living-sign/

The sign I planted in support of Joe Biden lasted two whole nights at the entrance to our neighborhood before being removed by some angry old white man. Studly Doright and I actually drove into our housing development yesterday afternoon just in time to witness the old codger pluck the sign from the ground.

I was hopping mad and would have confronted him, but Studly reminded me that the guy was likely armed. He also had a rather large dog with him. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take his picture, but he looked vaguely like an amalgamation of these four angry white dudes. The GOP seems to have more than its share.

Still, I’m celebrating that the sign lasted two full days. I’m surprised it made it through Halloween, but it did. And, I have a backup sign in the trunk of my car. I believe I’ll wait for Election Day to plant it.

Peace, people!

A Lame Attempt at a Review of The Queen’s Gambit

If you need a great distraction from the worries of the modern world I suggest you watch “The Queen’s Gambit” on Netflix.

“The Queen’s Gambit” follows fictional chess prodigy, Elizabeth Harmon on her journey from a Kentucky orphanage to the world’s most exalted chess venues—all while addicted to various drugs.

I’m no chess player, heck, I barely know a pawn from a knight from a king, but I’m finding this limited series mesmerizing. Elizabeth, played by Anya Taylor-Joy, is a quirky, troubled young woman who plays chess intuitively. She gets her start in the game playing against the taciturn custodian at the orphanage, but soon she’s taking on entire chess teams in simultaneous play and winning local titles.

We’re not finished watching yet, so I don’t know how it ends, but the acting is spectacular and the sixties fashions are incredible.

Watch it.

Peace, people.

Dawn of the Living Sign

I planted this sign at the entrance to our housing development last night, fully expecting it to be gone this morning.

Lo, and behold, it was still standing this morning. Now, let’s see if it survives Halloween.

Many Biden signs have graced the same spot only to be stolen or destroyed within a day or two. Residents of my neighborhood have taken turns replacing the signs as they’ve disappeared. It was my turn. And guess what? I have a backup in my trunk.

Peace, people!