Lucy-Furr.

IMG_1545Does anyone have a pair of Falcon gloves that I can borrow? Or maybe a suit of armor?

My kitten, Lucy-Furr, has suddenly become a Rastafarian. She has a strip of dreadlocks all the way down the middle of her back that sticks up and makes her look like she’s got porcupine quills, and even with Rea holding her down while I try to brush her, and vise versa, she scratches and bites us so bad that we scream in pain, and there is blood everywhere, and her eyes turn black, and she whispers something through the air between her blood-tipped-fangs that sounds almost like she’s saying “I’m going to kill you all in your sleep…”

For all of these reasons and more; her porcupine-looking-dreadlocks remain, and I’m finding myself wondering if I may need to hire an experienced exorcist priest to come and remove the demons from this so-called-kitten.

No disrespect, but this shit is beyond the Kitten Whisperer’s expertise.

Help!

Help us!

No, seriously.

HELP.

Dear God, please…

S.O.S

This is the only way that Rea and I can communicate with the outside world, because fortunately for us, Lucy-Furr has never learned how to read. She has us trapped in the basement, and when Nash tried to save us from her earlier, she simply backhanded him with her left paw, and he flew threw the air, bounded off of the wall, and was knocked unconscious. She laughed afterwards like a maniac and I may have peed a little.

If anyone could please come over and try to entice her away from us with a trail of Meow Mix (laced with Vicodin) I would surely appreciate it.

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A Night on the Town.

IMG_0726The following is a blow by blow tale of a recent night out with my Skagit Valley Family.

5pm  –  At Corner Tavern in Bow, WA drinking beer out of mason jars with:  Rea, Mom, Mom’s new love interest Lyle, Auntie Verna and Uncle Robert. 

Of course the majority of the time, since we were in a group where we were outnumbered by folks who are aged 70 or above, they were all discussing their health impairments and comparing health insurance companies.

After Lyle excused himself to use the bathroom…

Mom:   “Did you see Lyle’s dimples?”

Me:   “Yes.”

Mom:  “They’re like Viagra!”

That’s my Mom after 1 drink.

Uncle Robert:  “Oh god, at my age I’d need Viagra, plus 6 toothpicks to hold it up!”

That’s Uncle Robert after 2 drinks.

Waiting for Cousin Eric and Cousin Venise to join us. Looks to be a pretty fun night.

Later on…

Cousin Venise:  “Oh Rea, we could tell you so many stories about Fartney…”

Rea laughed:  “Fartney huh?”

Me:  “Oh yeah, I had lots of nicknames.  Pretty much anything bad or disgusting would get an N-E-Y added to the end of it.”

Cousin Venise:  “Fart-ney, Shit-ney, Wipey, Whippy-Wipey…”

Cousin Eric:  “And of course we had to combine her first and last name to make, Butt-ney.”

Rea:  “Of course.”

Cousin Venise:  “Remember when we used to lock her out of the house until she’d say a cuss word?”

Me:  “You guys were so mean!”

Cousin Venise:  “We’d tell her to ‘say dammit’ and she’d cry and cry…”

Me:  “Yeah because I knew that Jesus could hear me!”

Cousin Venise:  “We’d try to get her to say pretty much any swear word that we could think of and she wouldn’t!”

Me:  “And then Auntie Verna would get home from work and beat your asses for being so mean to me!”

Cousin Eric:  “Oh man, Mom (Auntie Verna) would get so mad at us all the time!  Farting was a big no-no.  If we farted in the car, Mom would make us get out of the car and run the rest of the way home.”

Me:  “You guys should have all tried out for track.  You had to have been the most well-trained runners in the county!”

Rea:  “Oh man, if we did any of those things our mom would’ve just plain killed us!  I’m the youngest and my brother and sisters would pick on me, but they knew that they could only do so much before I’d tattle on them.”

Cousin Venise:  “Oh my god, Shitney was the WORST tattle-tale!”

Me:  “I had to be!  I may not be alive today if you guys weren’t so afraid of Auntie Verna!”

Cousin Eric:  “So Rea, let me get this straight, you mean to tell me that you’re the youngest in your family and no one ever farted on your head until someone yelled ‘stop!  She’s had enough!!’…?”

Rea:   “Oh no!  I came from a modest family in the South. We excused ourselves to the bathroom for such things.”

Cousin Venise:  “You’re so lucky that you never had to worry about brain damage!”

On the way home from the Conway Tavern, Rea and I stopped at Costco to pick up one of my prescriptions…

Me:  “If I went through the line at Costco with a 50 gallon tub of gummy vitamins, 2 litres of Miralax, and an enormous bottle of diet pills, do you think anyone would be concerned?”

Rea:   “First of all, I should ask you…how many beers did you have tonight?”

Me:   “Quite a few. You’d think I’d be drunker than I am right now…”

Rea:  “I think you’re feeling pretty good about now.”

Me:  “Yeah, i feel pretty awesome.  Why can’t I ever run into anyone at the Burlington Costco when I’m this awesome?”

Rea:  “That’s another question that you’ll have to ask Jesus someday.”

As the night continued…

Rea totally just tattled on me to my Mom.  Twice!!

Rea hollered from the living room:  “Margaret!!”

Mom hollered back from her bedroom:  “What?!”

Rea:  “Whitney just flipped me off!”

Mom:  “Oh I know. Isn’t she just so rude?!”

Five minutes later, both Rea and Mom still on separate sides of the house…

Rea:  “Margaret!!”

Mom:  “What?!”

Rea:   “Whitney just mooned me!!”

Mom:  “Oh god, Whitney, did I not raise you right?!”

Me:   “Mom, aren’t you even going to ask Rea what she did to deserve getting flipped off and mooned?”

Mom:   “No. I’m sure she’s being a complete Angel because I’m always a sweet, little Angel when you’re so vulgar to me…”

Me:  “Yeah right!!”

Walla Walla Road Trip.

IMG_0684SORBET VS FROZEN YOGHURT:

Mom, Rea and I were on our way to Walla Walla, WA for my oldest niece Claire’s graduation from Whitman College, and we stopped in Ellensburg for a bathroom break.  When Rea asked if anyone needed anything else before we got back on the freeway my reply was, “I could go for an ice cream cone!”

Mom: “Ohhh yeahhh! I could go for an ice cream cone too… but I’d fart on you guys all the way to Walla Walla.”

Rea: “Yeah, how about we don’t get any ice cream…”

When we saw a Baskin Robbins on our way back to the freeway entrance Mom shouted, “There’s a Baskin and Robbins and they have sherbet!  I can have sherbet or a sorbet and it doesn’t give me gas!!!”

So we stopped at Baskin Robbins.  Mom got so excited looking at all of the different flavors of ice cream and frozen yoghurt that she decided that she would take a chance on playing Russian Roulette with our nostrils by nixing the sorbet and eating some dairy instead.  When she began to place her order, and it started with a scoop of mango frozen yoghurt in a waffle cone, I stopped her right there.

IMG_0682Me:  “Mom!  You said that you were going to get sherbet or a sorbet…”

Mom:  “I know, but the frozen yoghurt looks so good!”

Me:  “The sorbet looks good too.”

Mom:  “In other words, you want me to order the sorbet.”

Me:  “For the sake of all that is holy…YES!”

Mom looked at the Ice Cream Scooper Girl and said, “See what I have to put up with?  She’s so bossy!”  Of course the Ice Cream Scooper Girl gave me a look that said:  “How can you be so cruel to your poor, poor Mother?!”

I fought back by announcing to all of the employees at Baskin Robbins that “I have good reason to say no in this situation.”  That didn’t seem to help with their looks of disgust.

When we got back in the car I said, “Thanks Mom, for making all of those people think that I’m the Devil!”

IMG_0674Mom:  “Well…I wanted frozen yoghurt!”

Me:  “Well…I didn’t want Rea and I to be stuck in a hot car with you and your frozen yoghurt farts for the rest of the day!”

Rea:  “I think that was a good call!”

Mom just sat in the back seat and pouted with her lemonade sorbet.  I asked her if she’d forgive me if I let her have a lick of my mango frozen yoghurt and she said she’d think about it.

PRETTY MISERABLE SISTER.

Mom’s stretched out in the backseat of my car and pipes up with very important information about every IMG_06425 minutes or so.
Mom: “Boy! My right hip sure is a’hurtin!”
Me: “It’s a’hurtin huh?”
Mom: “Yep, but I just shifted onto my left butt cheek and now it’s so much better!”
Me: “Wow, thanks so much for the update on which butt cheek you’re sitting on…”
Mom: “Well somebody has a Pretty Miserable Sister, huh Rea?”
Rea: “I’m not sure that I’m following you on that one, Margaret…”
Mom: “You know…Pretty Miserable Sister…PMS?”
Me: “You’re about to get the finger, Mom…”IMG_0688
Mom cracked herself up so bad: “Pretty Miserable Sister! I just made that up all on my own!”
I gave her the finger.
AT THE GRADUATION:
Graduation wasn’t even over yet and Mom somehow found herself a plate of food.  In fact, she’d already had seconds, and therefore she had an educated opinion about the after graduation buffet; she thought that the chocolate cake was decadent but thought that the vegan hummus was bland.  Her favorite was the asparagus spears.  When I asked her where she got the food she said, “They’re just putting it out over there and there’s no line or anything!”  Me:  “Yeah, that’s because they haven’t even started handing out the diplomas yet!” 

IMG_0647Mom:  “Well nobody told me that I couldn’t have any.” 

Me:  “They probably thought that you’d figure it out since you were the only one filling up your plate – TWICE!” 

Mom:  “Yeah, I thought about that but I still couldn’t control myself.  I was getting weak.”

Me:  “That would be a great excuse for your first plate of food.  What’s your excuse for the second helping?”

Mom:  “My plate looked lonely when it was empty…”

THE PERFECT GRADUATION PHOTO:

IMG_0667We asked Mom if she got a good picture of Claire receiving her diploma, since she’d been waiting by the stage for 20 minutes with her zoom lens on and everything, and she said, “I got the most amazing shot, you wouldn’t even believe how good it was, but then I realized that my camera wasn’t turned on…”

 IMG_0651IMG_0678

Seaside.

302786_10151581006620862_714680784_n255683_10151581343225862_1687393322_nSpontaneous trip to Seaside, OR for Rea’s (early) birthday!

Day 1: 

a) Nash, my dog, peed on some poor kid’s sand castle and sprinted into the ocean just so that he could put his weiner in the water.

b) We walked all around the sleepy beach town imagining what it would be like to grow up here. We decided that it would be like “Stand by Me” meets “The Goonies” – so apparently we’d be boys going through puberty while searching for dead bodies and treasures…?

c) Watching the sunset on the beach while sipping red wine from styrofoam cups.

d) Rea said I can’t admit to drinking from a styrofoam cup because we may get kicked out of Portland for single-handedly ruining the environment.

e)  “You think I’m gorgeous, you wanna kiss me, love me and marry me.” – Miss Congeniality.

f)  Me: “What time should I set the alarm for?”  Rea: “What time would you like to set the alarm for…?”  Me: “Well I’d really like to get up early enough to go look for sand dollars so…how about 6?”  Rea: “How bout you quit smokin’ crack before bed?”

 

Banana Split Blizzard.

Rea and I were driving back to Portland from Seattle yesterday, and we decided that we deserved a DQ Blizzard as a reward for being so good on our diets for the past couple of weeks – (insert irony here).

We stopped at the halfway point in Centralia, WA to fill the gas tank and use the bathroom, and then we went through the Dairy Queen drive-thru before getting back on the freeway.  I ordered a Banana Split Blizzard, and Rea got one of the chocolatey kinds.

The car went totally silent as we enjoyed our frozen treats.  About two bites in, I realized that there was something wrong, so of course I complained to Rea about it.

Me:  “There is no chocolate syrup in this.”

Rea:  “Is it supposed to have chocolate syrup?”

Me:  “Does a banana split have chocolate syrup?”

Rea:  “Yeah…”

Me:  “So yes.”

Rea:  “Pardon me!”

Me:  “Plus I just found a piece of coconut!  There’s not supposed to be coconut in here.  This must be the Hawaiian Blizzard!”

Rea:  “Oh no!  This is a disaster!  Do we need to turn around?”

Me:  “First of all, I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.  Don’t forget about the Zesty Sauce story…”

Rea raised her eyebrows and shook her head in fear:  “Not the Zesty Sauce!”

Me:  “And second of all, it’s still ice cream and it’s still delicious.  I was just making a point.”

Rea:  “Point taken.  Well I watched them put like three-quarters of a banana in the blender, so at least it has banana in it.”

Me:  “Yep, it has banana.  Oh and a nut!  I just found a nut in it too!”

Rea:  “Let me guess…there’s not supposed to be nuts in it either?”

Me:  “No, there’s not supposed to be nuts, but it was a pecan and it tasted pretty good.  I swear, they must not have had a clue what the hell goes into a Banana Split Blizzard, so they just put a scoop of everything in it or something…”

Me:  “Except the chocolate syrup.”

Rea:  “Yes.  The chocolate syrup is severely lacking.”

We went back to chowing down our Blizzards when I got something unidentifiable in my mouth.  I took it out to look at it.

Me:  “Rea?  What does this look like to you…?”

Rea:  “Umm…I’m not sure…?”

Me:  “Oh god, I think it’s a banana peel!”

Rea:  “Yup, that’s a piece of a banana peel all right.”

Me:  “What in the world is happening?!  Is this God trying to punish me for cheating on my diet or something?”

Rea:  “Well I don’t know.  Are you going to stop eating it now?”

I thought about it for a second:  “Nah.  It’d have to be at least a human finger before I stopped eating it.  Actually, even then I may just throw the finger out the window and then try to eat around it.”

Rea:  “Now that’s love right there.”

Me:  “You know it!”

Good Intentions Squandered.

I found some sugar-free pancake mix at Fred Meyer the other day, and since Rea and I have been trying to be diligent on our low carb diets, I purchased a box so that we could try it out.  This is what happened:

Me (yesterday morning):  “Oh man, what I wouldn’t give for some blueberry pancakes!”

Rea:  “Hey, didn’t you get some low carb pancake mix?”

Me:  “Oh yeah!”

Rea:  “And I’m pretty sure that we have some blueberries in the freezer…”

Me:  “Holy Crap!  Best day EVER!”

Rea:  “I will whip some pancakes together if you will go get us some coffee at Starbucks.”

Me:  “Good plan.”

When I got back from Starbucks, the aroma of delicious blueberry pancakes filled my senses.  I even closed my eyes to savor the moment, until I heard Rea cussing in the kitchen.

Me:  “What’s wrong?”

Rea:  “Those damned blueberries are too heavy and are making it almost impossible to flip the pancakes!  I’ve burned three of them already!”

Me:  “Maybe they’re not burned.  Maybe they just look burned because of the blue from the blueberries…?”

Rea:  “There’s blue and then there’s BLACK.”

Me:  “Too bad they’re not BLACKberry pancakes huh?”

I could tell that Rea was not in the mood for my terrible jokes, so I read her expression and quickly obeyed by shutting my pie-hole.

After a few failed attempts, Rea was able to get some very thin, but still rather glorious looking blueberry pancakes onto our plates.

I took my first bite.

Rea:  “How are they?”

Me:  “They’re…ummm…well…?”

Rea took a bite:  “Ohmygod these are TERRIBLE!”

Me:  “Yeah, there is a serious need for butter and syrup.”

Rea:  “Yeah, I mean let’s face it, aren’t pancakes merely a vessel for syrup?”

Me:  “Yes, I guess they are.”

Rea:  “I think we might have some syrup in the cupboard.”

Me:  “Thank God!”

We then proceeded to drench our “sugar-free” pancakes with enough syrup to put us into a diabetic coma.

Rea:  “That’s BETTER!”

Me:  “I’ll say!”

Rea:  “I guess this defeats the purpose of making sugar-free pancakes huh?”

Me:  “Yep, pretty much.”

Rea:  “They’re better, but it still seems like they need something…”

Me:  “How about some Whipped Cream!”

Rea:  “YES!!”

Radio Shack.

I noticed a Radio Shack store in a strip mall near our apartment this afternoon, and I said, “I thought Radio Shack went out of business…?”

Rea: “Nope, Radio Shack is alive and well.”

Me: “I just don’t see how they don’t go out of business. Who even shops there anymore?”

Rea: “Men. They sell remote controlled cars to grown-ass men.”