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The Bang Bang Theories

Hard of Purring

Me: “I think Kitty Purry is losing her hearing.”

Him: “What makes you think that?”

Me: “Well, when I call her name or when I try to wake her up when she’s sleeping, she doesn’t move.”

Him:  ~ just looks at me ~

Me: “So therefore she must be losing her hearing. Otherwise she would turn to look or at least twitch.”

Him: ~ still staring ~

Me: “Today I did a test and made a lot of loud bangs and trilling noises when she was snoozing on the porch and she didn’t move at all until I touched her.”

Him, finally chiming in: “Maybe because she was sleeping.”

Me: “I think we need to give her a hearing test.”

Him: “And what do you think that involves?”

Me: “Standing behind her and banging on stuff and see if she moves her head.”

Him, calling Purry! P U R R Y!! , who was just sitting on the outdoor couch minding her own business.

Purry looks over towards him, a disdain and annoyance.

And I think we have our answer: All cats are hard of hearing.

Not a Good Reason

You’re getting a rare glimpse of the most elusive of my six three cats, Reader, and I know that your day has now been m.a.d.e.

She is a certified weirdo. Well, not technically “certified” but I could create a certificate that says so if you’re going to push it with me.

Sammi is weird because she hates too much attention from us, her providers, but if you’re a stranger who pops in, she is all. over. you.  She reaches up and will incessantly pat your arm with her paws, will rub against you – she will pull out all the cat works.

But us? Runs. Can’t pick her up, oh, no.  She will back-claw the shit out of us to get away.

I actually snuck up on her this morning while she was napping on the couch and managed to give her a little scratch on the head.  She’s good on affection for the rest of the month now. Unless you stop in, Reader. Then you’d swear we starve her for affection and feel the need to want to rescue her from her awful captors.

We had an insurance lady stop over one day this past week, and Sammi jumped up on the chair behind her and started to paw her way up her back, wanting to play in her hair. It’s just true weirdo behavior.

But enough about her. You don’t come here for cat stories oh yes you do.

The insurance lady was here because for some reason –  maybe it was the plague of 2020 –  the seed was planted in my brain that I needed to have a policy in the event of my untimely death, so that my three damn cats wouldn’t be homeless and end up in a shelter somewhere. I needed to have some money to pay off a mortgage to keep a roof over their heads.

While the Lady was here, we decided that why was My Mister the only one making out in that scenario, and I pressured him into also getting a policy with my name on it. It’s only fair.

Then we both got into the particulars with The Lady, discussing exactly what pays out in the event of an untimely death, i.e., one of us falls on a knife twelve times, or how long we have to wait to collect if one of us just up and runs away and is never seen again. You know, the important questions.

The good news is, our policies aren’t large enough to be incentive to go to the trouble to murder each other. We watch enough Forensic Files to know how much work it is to cover your tracks and neither one of us could lift the other to stuff us in a freezer. My years of working on cake has played into my plan to be too heavy to lift alone, thereby preventing My Mister from deciding to murder me.

I still have to make out my will and do responsible shit of that nature, but we took a first step into being Responsible Adults towards each other.  And you wonder why I haven’t been here for you, Reader. It had nothing to do with my professional-level procrastination. It was strictly the result of time-consuming adulting.

What’cha Get

So this morning (sssshhhh…it was noon-ish), I was out on my deck drinking coffee naked and engaging my bod in active yoga poses when I caught a glimpsy of my nakey self in the sliding glass door.

Reee…..der.

Now, first, don’t all of us sit on the deck naked? I mean, it’s 68 sunny damn degrees. It was begging for my clothes to come off to catch up all the Vitamin D it could, and they say the body craves what it needs, and mine was craving more sun on my pasty skin so obvi I had to do it for my health.

I know, I know – I, too, am slightly worried that I can be viewed by the neighbors. But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – they’re only going to look once. Then they’ll be busy taking up a petition with the whole entire block to force me to wear clothes when I’m outside. Since that hasn’t happened yet, I assume I’m invisible when I’m out there.

Anyway, the point of this story is this:

1/ I need to shave my legs. Wowie, Reader. This Quarantine hasn’t done my grooming any favors. Catching a glimpse of those things in the harsh light of day made that crystal clear.

2/ While doing a hamstring stretch with my leg on the table, something large and moving caught my peripheral vision and I screamed for My Mister. He came slowly lumbering out the door to see what the ruckus was – I’m going on the record of saying that he should really move just a tich faster when he hears me scream, and I think you would all agree. I could literally be bled out before he made his way to check out the sitch. Just the other day I was getting out of the shower and let out a bloodcurdler, and he didn’t even jump up off the bed – 5 steps away – until I yelled, “CAN YOU COME IN HERE FOR FUCKSSAKE?!!” 

At that point he said, “That was a scream like I haven’t heard from you before, I thought maybe you’d fallen in there.”

Let that soak in, Reader.

“A scream like I haven’t heard from you before.”

“I thought maybe you’d fallen.”

To which I ask you, Reader, why didn’t he spring up to check it out?? Why was he still lying on the BED if that’s the case??

This is the level of care and concern I get around here, and you should know it, just in case something DOES happen to me, you can stand at my funeral and lambaste him for his lagging response time. That’s exactly what I want to happen at my funeral: Lambaste and Shame My Mister if I should die in a home accident because he didn’t promptly respond. Now that we have my funeral goals established, let’s move on.

To answer your question, the Bathroom Scream resulted from a million-legger walking around on the wall near my towel. He got re-homed outside of the home.

The second Deck Scream was because I saw a very dangerous and treacherous leaf shadow dancing around on the back of the chair next to me.

Which is probably why My Mister lumbers towards when he hears me scream, I’m literally the Girl Who Cries Bug, but I still demand prompt and thorough attention when a scream is involved and feel that is only right and justified for all that I give around here. Which is a lot, Reader, believe you me. And I’m not even counting the Unprompted Peep Shows and Moonings I deliver on a somewhat regular basis.

3/ The third and final Naked Deck Discovery today was when I spied with my little eye my sideways reflection in the sliding glass door. I mean. Wow. I startled myself. I told My Mister, “I just don’t think I’m THIS FAT when I think of myself.”

He thoughtfully replied, “Well, who do you think you look like, Charlize Theron?” and then he hee hee’d and hawww haha’d for a good two minutes at his own cleverness.

So basically in my mind’s eye I’m only half as fat as I am in reality, and My Mister isn’t having sex (with a partner – he may be having all sorts of sex by himself for all I know) for two weeks due to his own funny haha’s.

I think we could all agree that’s only fair.

 

 

This is Nuts.

Happy WhateverDay, Reader!

I have been in a M.O.O.D. the past month day or so, and it’s not getting better so I’ve decided to take a smeency time out from the Things that Annoy Me, namely:

1/ People (not YOU, Reader – other people)

2/ News

3/ Social Media

Except ironically, Here, which is like social media times ten, but I’m not inundated with other people’s dumbness here – only my own.

I only want to listen to me at the moment, Reader. And Taylor Swift, because I’m not ashamed, I heart T-Swizzle and we listen a lot-lot-lot to her Lover album despite the fact in her song “Lover” she has a really bad lyric and it sort of makes my blood pressure go up a little and I want to have a cocktail with Tay and suggest she rewrite and re-record it because IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE and she’s better than that.

Twizzle. Call me. We can fix this and have a mutually satisfying outcome.

Finally, things at Chez Bang Bang are smoothing out sickness-wise.  My Mister has had a bad enough cough that I thought it was going to kill him the other night when I smashed a pillow over his face.

We both made it through, but it was touch and go. I was sending very angry texts from the bedroom to him in the living room, which was not socially distanced enough to stop me from hearing him every twenty seconds make VERY LOUD and NERVE-GRATING noises.

I wasn’t so much annoyed the fact he had a cough; it was the fact that he wasn’t doing everything possible to stop making so much noise. Tea, honey, hot shower, gargle with salt, cough drops; I just wanted him to do all the things possible to prevent suffocation.

But we’ve gotten past that hump and I didn’t even have to clean his insides with disinfectant.

So today I decided to write my To Do list up so that I could stay on track a bit and accomplish a few things that I have been actively procrastinating doing, but I also wanted to feel like I’m already a success so I started with my #1 item being something I wanted to do and was currently doing:

I have successfully met this goal and have had two cuppsa coffee already, along with the best nutroll in the world from my local bakery, and while one of my challenges is to eat less sugary stuff I figured this counts as brain food because walnuts are a superfood and also super yummy when ground up, mixed with butter, and smashed between some dough. So I had it for my health, Reader.

And that’s what we’re doing so far today.

Delicate Balance

The Reluctant Gardner’s seeds are sprouting, Reader!!

I feel as if I’ve just given birth. Exactly the same as a pregnant woman who grew a baby for 9 months, and then squeezed it out of her vagina with a lot of butthole ripping and pooping on the table. Exactly. The Same.

Considering I really didn’t know if this little endeavor would even work, I have to say I’m surprised and delighted that something is sprouting in my eggshell cups.

TGFTI, Reader. (Thank Gore for the Internet).

I read many-ah articles and watched many-ah Youtubes on how to grow seeds from just cutting open a tomato and scooping out the seeds. I was worried about the gel sac the seeds are contained within, and if these little fellas could break free. Some info said it could, some said nay nay. I went for it anyway.

Well, I’ve got about half success – better than I had hoped. I  have no doubt that my AeroGarden light is to thank for this success, and that was a good ten bucks I spent three years ago and stored in my garage unused, which is also why I hesitate to get rid of anything because what if I decide to start a new reluctant hobby or actually use a piece of exercise equipment that’s lying around, Reader – then what?! I’m out of luck, that’s what.

It was JUST YESTERDAY that I went downstairs and hung upside down on my inversion table, which I also purchased probably five years ago from the Interwebs for a cheapo price and use sporadically and I’m not going to Marie Kondo it because while it may not inspire JOY, it does inspire my vertebrae to get more space between them so that’s why.

Stop trying to pressure me, No One, into getting rid of all the things.  I’ll get rid of some of the things, but just not all the things.

I did recently spy a balance death contraption in the garage, something I swooped up for a few cheap bucks at the discount store, that one time when I was busy making Grand Plans to work on my balance and this two-dollar deal was going to change my world.

Looks easy enough, amiright?

I tried it in the living room and almost fell over into the giant television so it got re-homed to the garage and that’s where it’s lived ever since, amidst a pile of garage sale junk we never actually sold at the garage sale and it will probably all get donated as soon as donation places open back up to accept our germy wares.

Except.

Recently. Very recently, during out Stay At Home orders, My Mister and I took a little walksy and I tried to walk a curb like a balance beam and physically do not have that move in me, Reader. I just. can’t. do. it.

I don’t know why, stop asking.

I just literally cannot put one foot in front of the other and walk a straight line and now it’s officially on the record in the event I get pulled over and the fuzz thinks I’m snockered and makes me walk a line and I CAN’T, COPPER. Read my blog, you’ll see this was well documented! So this is now my alibi or something along those lines. I’m not a lawyer but I did watch a lot of Judge Judy while HandyDan was here getting his hip healed so I’ve almost completed my law degree and I’m pretty sure this is how a future alibi might work.

Anyway. After I couldn’t walk a curb, I did spend precious time walking around the living room and hallway of Chez Bang Bang with Howard Stern’s book on my head to try to work on my balance and now you know just one more snippet of the excitement that happens around here and you’re even more jealous you don’t live with us. It’s a party, Reader, a crazy-ass girl-gone-wild event night after night.

Now I’m thinking I need to pull my balance board back into the living room and give it another go. And that’s why my garage has a heap of stuff in it. Because some of it is valuable and may get used once a year.

Somehow we got down this winding road and I’m not exactly sure how, so let’s recap:

1/ I’m officially a whore– horticulturist and should probably have my own tv show.

2/ I know legal stuff so well I should probably have my own tv show.

3/ I can show you my organization tricks to store stuff you may one day need in a heap in the garage and should probably have my own tv show.

4/ I’m a fitness guru and should probably have my own tv show.

Basically, I’m a celebrity and should have my own tv show.

Just continue to keep your social distance, Paparazzi.

 

A Show-er & A Grow-er

We’re now fiftyzillion days into the quarantine and I’ve turned into a farmer, Reader.

On one of our trips BC (Before Corona) to Costco, we picked up cherry tomatoes called Flavor Bombs. And they were da’ bomb.

I did a little research to find out why in the why these are so dang tasty, and apparently they are magic seeds from the South of France, and yum, I want more in mah mouf.

Except I don’t wanna pay mucho dinero* for them, and so I had the Bang Bang Bright Idea to become a grower.

* I’m being show-offy with my month+more dedication to practicing my Spanish lessons on Duolingo.

For a month or more I’ve been gathering up my egg shells, and then a trip to the dollar store netted some soil specific to growing seeds, and THEN I recalled I had purchased a MiracleGro AeroGarden for cheapo bucks from a Marketplace seller several years ago and had never used it yet. The most important part of that statement is that I could actually locate my AeroGarden and grab it down easily-ish from one of the shelves in the garage.

If you knew my garage and the forces I’m up against with keeping it somewhat manageable to get things from (Kenny), then you’d more fully appreciate that statement.

Today was deemed The Day to Dig In.

I carefully harvested seeds from some of the Flavor Bombs I had hidden away so they wouldn’t get eaten, and drilled holes in the cap of an empty mountain dew bottle to craft a tiny sprinkler so I wouldn’t wash away my seeds, and planted and tamped and got it all set up, using those fancy plastic egg crates as my makeshift greenhouse.

Now, the AeroGarden could have probably been used to successfully grow these in water only, but I don’t exactly know the workings of that so I went with this method and hope to see something sprouting.

I’m not sure exactly what my end game plan is with this endeavor because my prior attempts to grow vegetables are up against the forces of nature of which I cannot win (deer); yet the eternal optimist in me keeps trying.

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Plan v Reality

A conversation I had with me last night:

Evening Girl: “I am getting up at 9:00 … no later than 9:30 a.m. … or at the latest, 10… and the first thing, I’m going to do my yoga and my Spanish lesson and then get on with my day. Well, maybe first I’ll have ONE cuppa coffee, then go do my yoga, then my Spanish lesson. Or maybe I can do my Spanish lesson whilst I drink my coffee, then go do a good, solid 30-minute yoga video. Yeah. That’s how it’s going to go down here in the morning.”

Morning Girl: 

Rolls out of bed by 11:30 a.m. – forcing herself up at this point because she’s almost ashamed of herself. Almost.

Had two cuppsa coffee.

Looks at the Interwebs.

Decides on French toast for “brunch” because brunch sounds fancy and acceptable.

Thinks about making Taco our outdoor raccoon-kitty some french toast. Would have, but ran out of the French toast batter.

Eats French Toast.

Proclaims this is the best french toast ever in the history of ever. Secret ingredients include heavy cream (ran out of milk) and heavy cinnamon, cooked in a skillet of crisco+butter for crunchy fried goodness.

Is now ready for a nap.

The end.

 

Between the Sheets

On Blursday I steam-ironed my sheets, Reader.

Because the wrinkles were really, really bugging me.

We recently purchased new sheets from Costco while we were on an ESSENTIAL COFFEE RUN, as we are hunkered in and drinking far more cuppsa coffee than the norm. While we were there, we snapped up new sheets because our current model was El Cheapo From Walmart and while they were cute and soft enough, they refused to stay adhered to the corners of the mattress and it was annoying AF to wake up in the morning with the fitted sheet turning you into a burrito.

Since I haven’t been sleeping well At. All. as of late, I concluded that new sheets and pillows certainly couldn’t hurt matters and #2/ probably stop drinking all the coffee all day long.

I mean, Reeeee. Deeerr. The sleeps is SO BAD, none of my normal tricks have been working. Yoga / stretching routine before bed, sleep mask, Meditainment.com*, cat, warm bath, hot shower, sex, tv, reading – NOTHING was working to put me into a deep and delicious slumber.  It is getting sirrious at Chez Bang Bang, and also a tich on the totally yell-y side if I must admit.

So new sheets and the new down pillows that were offered up for a very reasonable pricetag went in the cart. And they are de.li.ci.ou.s.

Except.  They had a really big stink to them when I first unpackaged. So they got a good washing, but then in the dryer they did that totally annoying twister game they play, and there ya go, wrinkled up new sheets.

Normal Un-quarantined Me would just let it go and sleep on those wrinkled sheets. Quarantined Me got out the steamer and went to work. Because the fun never stops at Chez Bang Bang.

Even more fun was cooked up today, Reader. I conducted a not scientific at all taste-off, comparing organic vs. non-organic raspberries. Also purchased during the Costco Coffee Essential Travel Run. The verdict: While they did taste differently, I wouldn’t say one was more flavorful than the other.  For what it’s worth, which was about $3 more for the organic version. I shall enjoy eating them both, is the final verdict.

And as for those sheets helping Trixie get to sleep?? That first night? She slept clean through the night, for twelve solid hours. Twelve. And so far they haven’t let her down.

*if you haven’t used Meditainment.com yet, Reader, I highly recommend and it’s free. They have a variety of meditation options and normally the sleep one really helps me get right into a hard slumber. It works on Kitty Purry, too, and she start snoring within moments. If that’s not a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is.

Words From the Unwise.

By accident, JUST NOW, Reader, I learned what this little horseshoe shape on my toolbar means:

In all my years of writing stories here, I’ve never really been interested enough to simply HOVER over that and see what it could do.  Well, let me just tell you, it offers up a whole host of special characters like ↵ Œ ™ © Ψ  and other stuff I’ll never use, but it’s nice to just see the options.

I’ve also never changed my font color (that I can remember, Reader – maybe I have at one point, who knows), but in my lesson of discovery, that’s up there, too, so I made those special characters purple just for funzees.

This is definitely the oddest time in my lifetime, and probably yours, too, Reader.  9/11 was a very different time, too, but it was a different different.

I’m not sad or mad or anxious about being home.  I’m relieved I have a nice home that I love to be sequestered in.  I look around and have a lot of projects that need to be – and should be – being handled during this down time, yet it hasn’t been the time yet to do them, so there they are, still waiting.

And that’s okay.  I’ve given myself permission to be okay with not doing them yet. I’ll get to them, but it doesn’t have to be all in one big swoop.

Yesterday I was down the rabbit hole of sadness and anxiety and feeling bereft and as if life just didn’t matter any more. I know, so dramatic, but it was the feelings and so I crawled under the covers and cried for probably a good three hours. The kinda crying where I couldn’t breath crying, and then I was convincing myself I had Covid-19, and that’s what I get for going out to buy food, which made me cry more.  I’m fairly certain my Doom and Gloom mindset came from #1 too much News on the tv,  #2 reading American Dirt and wow, I’m now sad for all refugees and want to find a job in the future where I can help them and #3 Tiger King which was one fucked-up group of people that frankly I don’t care about, but I do care about all those animals. So I trifecta-ed myself into feeling dismayed with the world.

I’m only sharing that with you, Reader, because sometimes it’s okay to not be positive all the time. Mostly I’m a sunny-outlook person, and generally find the funny twist in life. But sometimes you can also get sucked down by all the bullshit – the hypocrisy of people, the awful and selfish and racist buffoon of a president, the virus, the financial mess, etc… and sometimes you just have to wallow in it.

But it’s not okay to get stuck there. That’s when all The Bad Things happen, and the next thing you know you’re being featured on 600-lb Life and Hoarders all at the same time. One of those problems is handle-able, but not both at the same time. We have to space out our dysfunction.

So this morning (noon….ssssh…no judging, I’m still fragile-ish) I got up and did two things I could control: A good hard-scrubbing shower, and made the bed.  And instead of signing right on to work, I took this next hour for myself and a cuppa coffee, and decided to write a smidge of words and get in my own head a little bit, but in a good way.  And the first thing I found by complete accident is that sometimes – sometimes – there’s Special Characters right in front of you and you never took the moment to notice it before, and it could offer up some interesting little things for you. Reader,

I’m certain you have Special Characters around you – things you may not have noticed or paid attention to before. It could be a thing or a people or a flitter of a birds wing right outside your window.  I’m not here to tell you what to do, Reader. Hell, I barely know what to do myself most of the time. But maybe, just because it’s a weird-o time, if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed or anxious or just want to cry, #1 go do it and #2 try to find that special character that you never noticed before and hover over it for a second and see what it offers up.

 

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Peep Show

Before the Pandemic broke loose, we were getting Fancy at Chez Bang Bang.

In addition to buying our fancy coffee maker, we also laid out a hunny for one of those fancy doorbells with a camera.

Mostly because we wanted to more closely monitor the comings and goings of our Outdoor Kitty who happens to live in a raccoons body, Taco.

I’m actually going to start an insta page for Taco so she can be on the ‘gram, as we are learning a lot about her likes and dislikes…

likes: short walks around the neighborhood, chocolate cake, meatball sandwiches

dislikes: potato peels, lettuce, pierogies

…and frankly we are being selfish hogging her from the world.

Also, as her parents, we really need to get her home cleaned up out there. We just bought a rake to get it under control as the weather is supposed to break this week. And since we’re going on lock-down as of midnight, we might as well do some stuff around here.

So we bought a video doorbell because I thought it would be nice if Taco could let us know when she was in the neighborhood and could ring for her breakie and dinner.  I mean, I was totally caught off guard by her the other morning and had to quickly throw a donut out to her and I’m not even sure if she got to enjoy it or if the birds got to it first. Either way, someone ate it, but I would just like to know her schedule a bit better so we can cater to the needs of the wildish racoon kitty who lives in the ravine. Because that’s normal behavior.

What I’ve discovered about myself from having a video doorbell is that I can’t stop making dirty videos when I’m out on the porch.

It all started with a simple boob-shake to – wait for it – titillate My Mister – you know, a quickie, unexpected peep show. Because I’m sure everyone does it; again, normal behavior.

But then! One night it turned into a full-on pants-down good ol’ fashioned mooning, and HandyDan nearly feel off the stoop when he realized I actually was pulling my pants down from the behind parts and giving it a little shimmy for the camera.

I blame Shakira and J Lo for their half-time show. I’m certain after that exhibition, all the fiddy-and-up ladies out there are just putting on mini peep shows for their doorbells. Right? Tell me I’m right, Reader.

The saddest part of this whole story is that #1/ My yard needs hella lotta raking and my hands are already forming blisters just thinking about it and #2/ My mini peep shows have gone mostly unnoticed and almost totally unappreciated by My Mister.

So the only course of action I can take is to keep it up, and to give it even MORE, which is exactly what I intend to do until someone screams Uncle! which will probably be our neighbors, but let’s face facts, that wouldn’t be the first time they’ve probably seen things they don’t want to see. I have convinced myself my deck is an isolated oasis and prance around their nekkid most of the summer, but only for HEALTH REASONS, Reader, because I need to maximize my Vitamin D. Sheesh. You act like that’s unusual behavior.

 

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