The Case of the Cat in the Morning-Time...

My cat, Lola, is a creature of habit.
She is so predictable, I could set my coffeemaker by her...

I get up at approximately 6am.
As I creak down the stairs...
An aside...can you hear yourself go down the stairs?
I can.
My knees sound like crinkling cellophane...
Yet I don't feel them, I just hear them.
#almost50
Where was I?
As I creak down the stairs, Lola moves from the couch, where she's been slumbering,
To the kitchen...to stand in front of the fridge...and wait.
For fresh water in her "inconvenient bowl".
Her bowl is a custard cup that sits along the wall in the kitchen by the fridge.
I blame my daughter for that one.
She started this "water by the fridge" thing.
Her water bowl and food are in the laundry room.
Apparently she needs water in two locations because she is "special".
After I begrudgingly fill her water bowl, and gush over her cute way of looking up at me,
I get my coffee and sit down to check email, read news, and see what my friends are up to on Facebook.
When I do this, Lola parks herself nearby...
To do some personal cleansing.
And by personal, I mean private.
I don't want to see or hear her personal cleansing first thing in the morning.
Honestly, there is no good time for that.
So I swat her away.
And she goes into the bathroom to tell her "friend" what a jerk I am.
She jumps on the toilet and gazes in the mirror to have a loud, mad conversation with another cat.
It's like "coffee with friends" but angrier.
And psycho-er.
Either she thinks we keep her nemesis in the bathroom or...
She has a very compliant friend who doesn't eat her food or drink her precious refrigerator water,
And only shows up when she wants to see her...
Or when she needs to gripe about her housemates.
When her rant is over, she finds a comfy place to nap...usually on the couch or in a sunbeam...
And she rests from the busy morning she's had.
It must be exhausting to deal with the utterly predictable humans she's trained to do her bidding.

Superpowers...

          I don’t mean to brag, but I have several enviable superpowers.  I’ll do my best to share them all with you, but since one of my superpowers is forgetting simple things at inopportune times, I may be prevented from remembering every single one.  On that subject, as I write for this blog or for my novel, I often forget the simplest and most common words.  Just the other day, it took me 10 minutes to think of the word….wait…I can’t remember the word I couldn’t think of the other day.  See?  That’s just one of my many superpowers.

            I can stretch two loads of laundry, a half-day job, into a full week of laundry-induced torture, and STILL not fold the clothes.  That, my friends, takes talent…no…power.  Superpower.  And while I’m on the subject of laundry, I have a distinct superpower that allows me to avoid ironing.  I can manipulate my dryer’s power to perform ironing duties for me.  Only on the most special occasions, does my iron come out of the cupboard…and it is brief and only used to impress…as well as press.

            I am frequently stunned to realize that my husband will be home in 15 minutes and I haven’t given a single thought to dinner.  I have a superpower that allows me to think of something to make for dinner, and have that dinner on the table shortly after his arrival, using meat I’ve pulled from the freezer to do it.   He will compliment me on the meal, not having a clue there was no thought of it 20 minutes before.  

            I have the innate ability to choose the wrong line in any situation.  When I choose a line it will instantaneously stop moving the moment I position myself in it.  A computer will go down, a cash register will run out of tape, an employee will take a break or a person ahead of me in line will have a problem that will take ten times the average amount of time to resolve.  For example, the other day, I saw a shorter line at the Costco gas station.  I pulled in, feeling smug victory, when I noticed a large gas-guzzling motor home pulling up to the pump ahead of me.  I waited for 10 minutes before switching lines and still beat the motor home to completion.  While I pumped my gas, the lady behind me commented “I can’t believe how quickly the line went today!” I just smiled.  I didn’t mention that I’d spent 10 minutes waiting in another line before choosing that one.  I wouldn’t want to reveal my superpower to just anyone.

            I can find a wonderful thing at a yard sale or thrift shop, hold on to it for years and then in one stroke of genius, create something out of it completely unexpected and cool.  And that’s not all.  I can NOT think of what to do with a thing years after purchasing it, decide to let it go, giving it away to a charity or selling it or throwing it in the garbage.  Then,  days later, in the middle of the night think of the perfect way to re-purpose it and wish I had it again, knowing full well it’s long gone.  I’ve done that over and over – which qualifies as a superpower. 

            Also, where yard sales are concerned, I can recognize valuable items, purchase them for a song and sell them for many times what I paid.  The bakelite jewelry I bought for 75 cents and resold for 400 dollars is an example.  Definitely a superpower.

            I have the ability to get the uncontrollable giggles at the worst possible times.  If a friend is involved, this superpower is magnified 100 times and conversely, friends can turn a superpower into a nemesis.  Somber times are when this superpower can cause great harm…giggles and sobriety do not mix.  Giggles are my kryptonite.

            Even though I am a woman, I have a superpower that crosses the boundaries of gender.  I can grow whiskers.  Not only that, my chin will be as smooth as a baby’s bottom for days on end and then, within hours, two whiskers will grow as though I were a burly mountain man with full beard-growing capabilities.  For this reason, I have to be on guard at all times so that I am not mistaken for a No-Shave November participant.  Although some claim this is a symptom of age, I choose to see it as a superpower.

            I have the ability to completely empty my mind of coherent thought when someone makes a comment that deserves a quick retort.  I will sit there, staring, unable to string two words together until the moment of opportunity has passed.  The conversation will change, the person will leave or I will move on and then it will hit me!  The perfect response.  The most scathing come-back.  The cleverest “gotcha”.   Some may call it “timely come-back disorder”, I choose to see it as a superpower…involuntary self-control.  I’m able to dis-engage my mouth due to my frozen mind.  It’s saved me from plenty of trouble and therefore is one of the superest of powers.

            Finally, I have the superpower of procrastination in every area of my life.  Some would see this as a character flaw and they would be wrong.  When one procrastinates, one must gain talents in other areas such as the speed with which one completes tasks.  The superpower comes into play with the quality of the work that is produced.  I have found that the quality of my work is superior when it is done under the pressure of time.  My brain is super-stimulated and obtains superpower qualities of brilliance.  You might be surprised to know that the bulk of this piece was written this morning as I drank my coffee and wondered why I hadn’t done my writing sooner.  Perhaps it’s the element of regret that adds that extra little je ne sais quoi that is the tipping point of inspiration. 

            While some may think that superpowers have to be of the superhero variety, seeing through walls, invisibilty, the ability to fly and insta-freezing villains, they would be wrong.  They are the little quirks and talents that make you unique.  Things you do without even trying, because superpowers just are.  They are possessed without effort.  A gift.  Embrace them and be SUPER!

A Day of Fashion Impairedness Awaredness...wait...

If you're fashion impaired and you know it hug a zucchini!

The day began with an exchange between my husband and I about what he was wearing.

We don't know what we're talking about when it comes to fashion

Plain and simple.

The conversation went down something like this:


Alex: "Heth, does this color go with this shirt?"
Me: "No"
Alex: "This?"
Me:  "That's better, but..."
Alex:  "How about this, I like this"

Me:  "I don't know"

Alex:  "I'm wearing it"

Me:  "Are you meeting with anyone important today?"

Alex:  "No"

Me:  "Good"

Alex:  "Wait, I don't think this looks right"

Me:  *sigh of relief* "Change the shirt, that's the issue."

Alex:  "Yes, That's much better"

I really don't know if the shirt was indeed the issue or if the pants were the issue.  

Surely there is SOMETHING that can be worn with that shirt...right?  He's worn it before...

The ironic thing about that morning was that I was preparing to go with my 73-year-old mother to Portland, Oregon to shop..for clothes.

(the reason we shop in Portland is because there's no tax in Oregon, so we save almost 9% right off the top after spending $40 on a tank of gas...I know, I know)

My mother and I were shopping for clothes for our trip to Europe.

One must dress appropriately in Europe as I understood it...

I didn't actually know because I'd never been there at that time.

But I needed boots.  

I don't know how to wear boots or what to wear them with, but we were going in winter, so boots were important.

And pants.

And sweaters.

And a necklace because, don't laugh, I didn't know how to wear necklaces.  

"Put them around your neck" I'd been told

But it's not that simple if you're fashion impaired.

Trust me.

I'd put them on and they looked all wrong.  

Just wrong, I can't explain it.

The wrong length, the wrong size, the wrong metal color...you name it.  It was that kind of wrong.

So we went.

And knock me down with a feather,

I bought all kinds of cute things and tall boots that zip up and have a cute buckle thing,

and a necklace and earrings and sweaters and pants...

Because my 73-year-old mother helped me.

Which, honestly, worried me.

Will I look like a page out of the polyester section of the old Sears catalog?

Had I lost all sense of age appropriate sportswear?

Wait, did I just use the word "sportswear"?

Had I, in fact, turned into my mother?

And did I mention that as I was picking out a sweater and mulling over colors she told me that I don't look good in red...as I stood there staring at her in my red jacket...

I argued with her then...

"What are you saying?  I'm wearing red, I look good in this!"

"Well, not really"

"Seriously?  You're telling me this now?  You let me leave the house in a coat that looked awful on me?"

"..."

wow mom.

Note to self...tell someone they're wearing a bad color BEFORE they leave the house to go out...

*sigh*

There are worse things to be I suppose...

Fashion impaired is a pretty benign condition in the grand scope of possibilities...

I could be my husband... asking ME for fashion advise...

ha!


p.s. - This was written a couple of years ago and while I still consider myself fashion impaired, I have made great advances in my quest to lose the title.  I have been studying fashion pins on Pinterest...and by studying, I mean, looking at outfits and marveling at the beauty of the choices...the harmony of color and style. And I have to say, I love good fashion...I'm always impressed when people can just DO it, put great looks together and not think twice about it.  I am getting better at it...I really am...and getting dressed is becoming a joy, rather than a really bad guessing game!