I Have Tourette Syndrome...

...it's the only reasonable explanation to the following conversation.


Angst: We should watch Terminator 2 tonight.

Yankee: Hippie can't watch it because it's rated R.

Angst: We all watched The Terminator, and it was rated R.

Yankee: That's because you see naked a California Governor.

Cat: Yeah, you see his penis.

Angst, Hippie & Yankee: You do not.

Cat: Oh yes you do. When he is running before he steals clothes from the three guys. It's swinging in the shadows. [Cat to herself: And it's a long dong, too.]

Angst: She could not have possibly said that in a more vulgar way.

Cat: Wait, I said that out loud?!

Hippie: What kind of house were you raised in?

Yankee & Cat: Not this kind.


A few hours later.

Cat: I looked on the internet, and I can find no back up to my claim about Arnold's showing his peen in The Terminator.

Yankee: I don't think it happened.

Cat: I think it did, and I was shocked. Not nearly as shocked as my children were a couple of hours ago by their mother, of course.

I Our House Were Bugged

If our house were bugged right this second all you would hear is the tapping of Pinkie Leigh's keys.

No snarky comments from Angst.

No Hippie watching endless Scrubs reruns.

No Yankee wit.

Even Sir Poopsalot is quietly napping in his kennel.

Yankee and the kids went to see the new Harry Potter movie, and as much as I love those movies, I declined to attend. I just couldn't give up three solid hours of the house all to myself. This is the first time since school let out that I have been the only human in the house. The first time all summer I've been able to enjoy one of my favorite things in the world, temporary solitude. Now I must leave you, good reader, so that I may enjoy my remaining two hours.

Peace

When I logged onto Pinkie Leigh this afternoon, all five of CNN's headlines on my CNN gadget were about Michael Jackson, so I thought I'd write a post about that. About how there are other things going on in the world. About how crazy people are about this crazy pop star. Writing that post was as successful as the two half finished novels sitting in my desk drawer. I just couldn't get my rant on.

I was never a MJ fan. I didn't like his music, but I didn't dislike it either. He really wasn't even on my radar because when Thriller was released, my wardrobe was 50% black, and I was dipping my toes into the alternative music scene. By the time Bad came out, the only thing I owned that wasn't black was a chartuse spandex mini skirt* which I wore while I swam in the deep end of the alternative pool. Now that I'm older and suppossedly wiser, I do understand he was very influencial in the music world, but I'd still rather watch Ian Curtis do his spastic arm thing than MJ moonwalk. That said, I was sadden when I heard he had died. I was sad that he seemed to be a nice, talented guy who was unable to live a normal life.

When I watched the news tonight, there was, shockingly, a recap of his memorial service, and I have to admit, I was moved. I realized it was the end of an era, and even if I wasn't an active participate, it was still my era, and that iconic part of it is gone forever.

Of course the saddest part of the service was when his little girl talked about her daddy. In the past two weeks I've thought of Michael Jackson as many things: Singer, Dancer, Star, Crazy, Sad, Pitiful and even Father, but I had never thought of him as Daddy. That adds a whole different diminsion to him and a whole new layer of sad to his death.

All I can say now is Michael Jackson, I wish you peace in Heaven, and I wish your children peace on this earth.


*I still own that mini skirt which now fits around only one thigh.

Happy 4th of July Ya'll

I've been known to, on occasion, complain about living in Stepford, GA. Too suburbian. Too conservative. Too hot. But there is one day of the year I love living here, and that is The Fourth of July -- today. Stepford does the Fourth right. We start off with a parade in the morning full of decorated golf carts, politicians, candy and beads, and we end up with a spectacular fireworks display over Lake Stepford.

We made it to the parade this morning with Hippie and her friend, but without Angst. He chose to sleep in as the proper teenager that he is. Here are some highlights.

One of the many decked out golf carts.

Not only do we decorate our golf carts, we also like to put on our patriotic finery for spectating. Note the plastic shopping bag for collecting candy, dog biscuits and other goodies thrown from the floats.

Yankee Doodle came riding in on a pony, stuck a feather into his safety helmet and called it macaroni.

After living here for 16 years, I'm not sure it's possible to properly celebrate the 4th without a golf cart.

This firetruck is way older than the town of Stepford which is actually celebrating it's 50th year of existence this year.

Did I mention the horses are my favorite part of any parade?

The Stepford Dragon, Steppie, roles out of Lake Stepford for a rare public appearance.

Uncle Sam wants you (to open a checking account at the local credit union)!

And this is the end of our parade. Now I must go take a nap to prepare for the fireworks tonight! Hope you all have a great 4th!

I'm Jonesing to Post

I rashly decided to give up blogging. My kids believed they were being misrepresented in my posts and were tired of it. I was having a hard time coming up with something to write. Plus I wanted to focus on writing my book (don't ask how that's going), so I decided I would just quit blogging. Just like that. Cold turkey.

It wouldn't be hard. Heck, I wouldn't even miss it. I could get my writing fix by working on my book (don't ask), and I could keep in touch with the blogosphere by reading your posts. The problem with that is when I read your stuff, I just got a little sad that I wasn't writing witty observations like that myself, so I haven't kept up with your blogs like I thought I would, and I'm feeling the loss of connection with my bloggy friends.

To fill the void, I find myself checking facebook about a million times a day now. Let me just tell you reading the results of some old high school acquaintance's What Color are You? or What Southern Food are You? quiz is not nearly as satisfying as reading about A Free Man's unnamed life crisis or the funny things Roo and Monkey said to Ink. But when I do read those things I start thinking about my own life crisis I could explore in front of a bunch of strangers or the funny thing Angst said that I know you would love to hear even if he doesn't want me to share.

Not posting has presented another problem -- keeping up with the extended family. I didn't realize how much this very large group of readers counted on my blog to keep up with what's going on with the Stepford, Georgia relatives. I'm not very good at communicating since I don't like talking on the phone, and my emails tend to focus on conversations about the weather. Not to mention Brother and Future Sister in Law are both serving in war zones. It's almost my patriotic duty to keep them entertained during their down time, isn't it?

Basically I can come up with a lot of excuses to come back to blogging, but the reality is it's addicting to spill your whole life out into a public forum. Nothing can replace the feeling of putting a nicely written post out there and anticipating the reactions and comments from my readers. I believe I have a posting problem, but because there is no 12 step program to help me break free, I'm just going to go with it for now.

This is the End My Friend

I walked in on Angst reading my blog yesterday. When he reached "A Couple of Things to Ponder," he sent me the following comment.

The man actually appeared to 50 years old, an old age for someone involved in the computer world. Also, I didn't say he was super old or ancient, merely that he was an older man, especially considering he was using his iPhone.

Maybe that is closer to what he actually said, but what I wrote was so much more entertaining. My family just doesn't seem to understand creative license. They are tired of being misquoted and having their pictures published for all the world to see. I remember Meridith Viera said one of the reasons she left The View was her kids were tired of being talked about on TV. I can't really compare my audience to that of The View, but my kids feel pretty much the same way.

Without my family to write about, I really don't have much to say in this blog. To be honest, Angst provided about 90% of the humorous material for my blog.

So I'm not going to be posting anymore.

The thing I'll miss the most about blogging are the people I've gotten to know. I'll still cruise over to your blogs to see what's going on in your world, though.

Maybe when I finish my book, I can come back and catch you up on what's going on with the Cat Family in Stepford, GA. Until then, it's been nice sharing this part of my life with you.

Good Bye, Friends.

A Cat's Eye View of the UK: Scotland

After our four days in London, we boarded a train to Edinburgh, Scotland. As a treat for the locals, we brought the sunshine with us, which is evidently a rare sight in those parts.

We toured the castle, were we learned that the English suck. This Scottish fact was pounded into our heads repeatedly throughout the trip.

Fiona, Princess of the Scottish Vaults, told us ghost stories.

There is a mountain in Edinburgh which we climbed. Here is a guide to how far each family member got in their quest for the peak, or who wimped out first, however you want to look at it.

We took a photo for the cover of Yankee, Angst and Hippie's upcoming record.

We stop to watch a Mohawked local doing a little rock climbing or rock hanging as the case may be.

We took a bus ride to the Highlands were we learned that the beaches of some lochs have the perfect stones for skipping. We also learned the Highlanders repeatedly pounded the English in battle after battle - at least according to our Scottish Nationalist bus driver/story teller. He didn't bother to explain how these repeated losses lead to English rule, but I gathered it had something to do with the English sucking.

If you're a big fan of this blog, I'm sorry to say I'll probably be retiring from it. Just as soon as I sell this photo of me and Angst in front of Loch Ness with Nessie in the background. I'm pretty sure it'll go for millions.

And one last thing. Remember that the same shoes that caused your feet to sweat in while in London and kept them perfectly comfy climbing a mountain in Edinburgh will do absolutely nothing to keep out the unbelievably wet cold of the Scottish Highlands. So if you plan to visit all three, take this piece of advice -- pack three pairs!