To Tweet, or not to Tweet

I'm not a tweeter. I don't officially follow anyone on Twitter, but sometimes I find myself coming up with tweets that I would write, if I tweeted. I live in a land of tweet make believe. It's not that I've got anything terribly earth shattering to report, just an occasional flicker of wit that will bubble up and make me think to myself, "Now that right there would be a good tweet!" I have a friend who tweets and she's wickedly witty, often tweeting tweets that make me crack up and shake my head at her mastery with the english language. I told her about my closet tweeting and she encouraged me to get a Twitter account. "Do it!!" she said, but I'm reluctant to go down that road. I already have a FB account (who doesn't at this point?). FB keeps me acutely aware of keeping it real and crossing the line of too much information on the status updates. What little I know of tweeting bears the same peril. Everyone has at least one FB friend who writes about going to the grocery store, then Petco, etc., etc. I'm friends with a woman on FB whom I really don't know at all (does this happen to anyone else?), but I've learned a lot about her through her posts. Many times I've come close to unfriending her after reading a particularly inane post, but somehow I'm bizarrely fascinated by her ability to post such drivel on a constant basis so I keep her on the list for entertainment purposes. Sure, she clogs up my news feed, but I always know what she's having for lunch, dinner and who has hurt her feelings, made her smile, what she's wearing, etc. She even posts pictures that she taken of herself asking her friends to comment on her latest weight loss. Gross. I'm kind of amazed that none of her "real" friends have taken this person aside and said in a low voice, "Um, you might want to ease up on the extremely boring and way too personal status updates. Just saying." Although, I suspect this person is a giant drama queen and she would burst into tears and immediately post something like, "it's always enlightening to learn who is a true friend and who is just jealous of my honesty and willingness to give of myself. Goodbye, XXXX XXXXX"

There are times when I do a status update that causes my friends to make amusing comments and that's always a good time. I get a little rush when I see a list of comments under my current status. Of course, it's easy to blow an hour on FB without even realizing it. Straying from page to page. Stalking this person and that person. It's quite time consuming and I always swear that I'll limit the time I'm on it. But it calls me back like a siren on a rock, wooing me with notifications and updated news feeds. I can't possibly add Twitter to my list of daily chores, too. It would mean getting up at 3 a.m. to get everything I need to accomplish for one day. I think I'll just stick to fantasy tweeting. At least for the time being. Okay, time to check my news feed one last time before I start doing real work. It'll just take a second...

The Haunting

Have you ever woken up in the morning feeling like your dreams kept you so absurdly busy that you barely got any rest? Do you ever have nights when you wake up multiple times and each time you go back to sleep you're transferred into another whacky dream sequence? Or does this just happen to me? Last night I had a series of four very detailed dream segments that were all variations on the same theme, which was coping with my (now deceased) cat, L.B. and his habit of peeing all over our house. I have no idea what sparked L.B.'s "Jason-esque" return to my life, albeit thru my subconscious, but it was haunting and disturbing. I can clearly see the blatant impudence that was so vividly displayed on L.B.'s grey, furry face as he looked me in the eye, backed up to the sofa and squirted. This isn't the first time I've had a posthumous return of the peeing pussycat. L.B. crossed over the Rainbow Bridge (probably spraying during the entire crossing) a little over 2 years ago. We had him for 14 years and he started off as an adorable, normal kitten and then for inexplicable reasons at about age two, he took to a life of crime and began a pissing spree that became the stuff of legend. He literally pee'd on everything in our house, including Jonathan and I at different points. He seemed to really love me, but as he aged he got more and more crazy. Sometimes I'd be petting him and he'd be purring and preening, then for no reason he would spin around and slash me with his nails. I began to identify his behavior with that of a veteran suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome. L.B. would often cautiously walk out the door, peer left and right then make a run for it in a crazed zig-zag pattern to the bushes at the back of the lawn. If he could've put on some camo and bandana, I feel he would've thought himself complete. My other cats seemed to look at him with pity, but he was so asocial that none of them made friends with him. He was sad, insane and tormented. It took me about five years to make the decision to "help" him start his journey to the afterworld, so after one last pee-fest on a new comforter I made the dreaded call to a friend/veterinarian. I am a diehard cat person, so this wasn't a decision that I took lightly, in fact it pained my very core to do it. However, the fact that we were moving to a new house that was freshly painted and cat pee-free helped reinforce it. The thought of watching (and smelling) L.B. as he darted through a new abode marking it was just too much. It had to be done. So it was. And ever since then that grey S.O.B. makes guest appearances in my dream world, always the same, furtively scurrying about the house, spraying pee in random patterns. Each time I see him I have the same reaction, "Oh NO! It's L.B.! How is this possible? We killed him!!" I know it's self imposed guilt that creates these dream-drama's. I did love L.B., but I'm fairly sure most people would've done him in/abandoned him/given him away long before I made the final choice. Twelve years of hard time with a pissing feline and now I'm doomed to an eternity of his resurrections through my dream land. I just now got his odor off the silk drapes that hang in our living room.

I really hope that tonight I get some well needed rest, or at least get to dream about a caribbean vacation, complete with warm sunshine and fruity rum drinks. With the way things have been going it's more likely I'll be laying on the beach and then L.B. will go sailing by and pee on the palm tree I'm sitting near. Here's to cat urine free dreaming!

Happy V-Day to me!

It's Valentines Day!!! I woke up this morning knowing that it was a perfect day to use my heart shaped waffle maker. Yes, I actually possess a heart shaped waffle maker. It was given to us as a wedding present from a friend (and she's a follower of this blog). Before I continue I must add, "friend" if you're reading this and thinking to yourself, "Oh yes, the waffle maker gift for which I never received a THANK YOU NOTE!", please accept my weak, eleven years too late apology for my complete absence of etiquette. I was a very uncouth bride in that I wrote out about five thank you notes and then gave up. Honestly, after a ten day honeymoon on St. Barth's armed with enough marijuana (again, wedding present-they got a thank you note;) to keep Snoop Dog and his posse high for a week I could scarcely remember who gave us what so I took the low road and pretended that thank you notes weren't really necessary at all. Note: Not proud of that fact and before anyone starts planning an intervention just know that I'm completely drug free these days and have been for many years. Okay, back to V-Day...

Jonathan and I aren't big V-Day fanatics. He usually gets me a card, something silly with a cat on the front that he knows will make me laugh and a bouquet of tulips, which he knows are my favorite flowers. We'll cook an elaborate dinner, light some candles, etc. He's more difficult to buy a gift for and he really doesn't care if he gets anything or not, but I usually come up with something. If only he liked waffles I would've gotten some Valentine's bonus points for serving heart shaped waffles for breakfast. Alas, he thinks they're gross, and neither sweet nor savory versions can tempt him. So in all honesty, I made heart shaped waffles for myself this morning. How sad is that? Actually, they were dang delicious in a completely syrup-y sweet,non-nutritious breakfast kind of way. I now feel like a bloated Valentine with sticky fingers and waffle batter on my sleeve. Why is it that waffles, pancakes and French toast always sound like a great idea, but after you've eaten them the regret over filling your stomach with their doughy sweetness far outweighs the pleasure of their flavor? Guess I'll put the waffle maker away until this time next year for surely by then I'll be ready for another batch.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!!

Winter Possibilities...maybe...

This is what my animals have been doing these last few weeks. They all like to sleep in various positions around the house, some upside down like Remy, other sideways to accommodate their girth ala Big Zekie. I won't post all the pet pics, because I'm sure you're getting the idea without seeing the entire brood in their relaxing glory. It's the season to rest and reflect while the winter winds and snows blow around the frigid outdoors. I am unlucky in this respect because I cannot nap once I'm up in the morning. Jonathan can stumble down to the barn with me, feed the horses, then stumble back to the house and be back asleep in record breaking time. I'm pretty sure he believes he's dreamed most of the morning feedings. Better that way, for him and me, he's incredibly intolerant of the winter weather. However, while the rest of my household returns to a blissful slumber after the flurry of feeding pets, my mornings entail trolling around on the internet, visiting the refrigerator multiple times, reading a few pages, writing a few paragraphs, struggling with the Sunday crossword (a week long endeavor for dolts like me), paying bills, and attempting to organize my desk. Not necessarily in that order. It's my way of "keeping busy". And I'm sick of it!! I won't add bitter words about winter, because it's become a redundant theme for me and everyone else in the northeast and beyond. Suffice to say, it's a test of will to stay upbeat and positive this winter. But I'm doing it! Despite my recent dealings with another tooth gone bad, despite a root canal that proved to be a painful experience and recovery involving a new, powerful antibiotic to quell the pain in my jaw, despite a sore elbow that's been giving me crippling pain, I'm oddly content. Is it acceptance? Stupidity? Blind faith that this too shall pass? I can't answer these questions and maybe it's better that way. La la la la laaaa, I won't look at the weather reports, I won't think about all the clothes I must don to prevent frostbite to go outside, I won't think about my swollen face. I'm like a rat on a wheel that just keeps on running, no destination in mind, just motion and that is the tonic that fuels me. Keep on truckin', like the weirdly popular bumper sticker that came about in the 70's. Keep on, keeping on...and soon it will be green and warm. Hey, that rhymes! A new bumper sticker for the winter of 2011! I can spread mindless hope for all of those pining for spring! I'll manufacture these bumper stickers in neon colors and shamelessly sell them at trade shows. They'll be pasted on Chevy's and Honda's worldwide. I'll become a doyenne of catchy phrases and make my fortune! Or, more likely I'll just watch dumb Youtube videos and eat voluminous quantities of leftovers to pass the time till the snow melts. :) p.s. if I see MY bumper sticker on even one car, there will be a copyright infringement suit! Maybe...now what is that silly kitty doing with a laser pointer? Hold on, I'm getting some more mashed potatoes out of the fridge...