Life in General

Show Down at the Beverly Hills Corral

Sooner or later it was bound to happen.

The ultimate match up.

Nature vs. Nurture

Man vs. Beast

Luke Skywalker vs. Darth Vader

Tom vs. Jerry

Picture the gunslingers.  On each end of the street.  Tumble weeds.  Dust clouds.  The barely audible sound of spurs clinking…The towns folk hiding behind the tattered curtains in the window of the General Store…

OR what really happened:


Following his liberation from the basement, Casper resigned himself to the fact that the dogs may be gone to the big pheasant hunt in the sky but he would have Carson to contend with.  For about 2 weeks, they peacefully co-existed.  Casper’s happiest moments were when Carson was 1) napping 2) not home or 3) in bed for the night.

It is a pretty even match up – both weighing about the same.  You think I’m kidding.  I’m not.

The other morning they were both under the dining room table.  Carson had a two-handed death grip on Casper’s tail.  And Casper did NOTHING.  I mean, I think he was actually purring but I can’t prove it.  I would pry Carson’s fingers from around his tail and the cat didn’t move.  This was his chance…his window of opportunity to RUN.  And what did he do?  Rolled over and went back to sleep.  Carson quickly got bored and moved on.

This morning, it started again.  Casper walked over and plopped right in front of Carson.  And with a squeal of pure delight, Carson did a full nelson (?).  He was smothering the cat.  And once again…the cat did NOTHING.  I tried to break it up.  But to no avail.  Carson could not be persuaded to move and Casper wasn’t budging.  I walked away.  Like the momma lion in the jungle…I was going to let these cubs work it out among themselves.

Avery did show some concern after watching the ensuing battle for a few more minutes.

“Mommy mommy!!!!  Carson pulled Casper’s tail and Casper did this (insert cross between gagging, spitting and hissing as interpreted by a 5 year old)”.

“It’s ok, honey.  Casper won’t hurt him.”

Next sound I hear is a *FAKE* cry from Carson.  He came into the kitchen with a pouty lip.  I did not see any visible injuries.  He must have figured that I did not have sympathy (which I did not) and he went back to the torture chamber (living room).  In the time that he came into the kitchen and returned – the cat HAD NOT MOVED.  Carson sat down next to him.  THE CAT DID NOT MOVE.  So I don’t feel bad for him.  And I don’t feel bad for Carson.  I tried to tell him no.  I tried to move him.  It seems they both want to play together, so far be it from me to come between these “frenmies”.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Although it may seem like I ambivalent about their interaction that is not the case.  I closely monitor it so as not to warrant any trips to the vet or the hospital.  While all of the facts stated here are true, it has been spun slightly for entertainment value.  Kind of like the Kardashians or Real Housewives.  But this is WAY more entertaining.

Life in General

It couldn’t be a….NO! Uh, yeah I guess it is

Yesterday a miracle happened.

Sorry to any Rams fans out there…I am not gloating about your loss.  I am simply reveling in the fact that the DETROIT LIONS WON A GAME!  And they didn’t just show up and win by a field goal.  Hell no!  They knocked it out of the proverbial park.  It was an awesome game…well worth the cost of parking ($35) and food ($62 for 3 adults and 1 child) and cotton candy ($6) and t-shirts ($35).  Hell at least the tickets were free.

She was bored by the end of the first quarter.  Until she got her hands on the cotton candy.  The bag was a big as her.  And she ate almost all of it.  Against my better judgment, of course.

Kid Rock was there.  We didn’t get a chance to catch up – but I want to give a shout out to him for helping donate 500 tickets to the game for a great cause.  He kicks ass!

We left without 7 minutes left in the game.  At 44-6 I didn’t think even the Lions could clutch defeat from the hands of victory at this last stage of the game.  We walked back to our close, yet amazingly expensive, parking spot and started home.  As we were cruising north on I75, back to the ‘burbs, I look out the window.  And did a double take.  omg.  OMG.  It couldn’t be….but then I looked for a third time.  And it was…

See that red truck in the left lane.  That is someones HAIRY BARE ASS hanging out of the window.  At 80 MPH.  (On the post it’s tiny, but if you click the picture, I think you get the FULL SIZE version)

Either someone lost a bet (Lions over Rams, Spartans over Wolverines perhaps?) or alcohol was once again playing it’s evil role.  Someone is going to need to get that pour fellow some butt paste for his badly chapped ass cheeks.   I’d say we were behind (he he he) them for a good 7 or 8 miles before we had to get off the freeway.  Wonder if they ever got pulled over?  Or maybe he fell out of the window.  That wouldn’t be funny but maybe he would learn his lesson…next time before accepting a bet…get a wax!

Life in General

I can’t believe I forgot about the fish

Over Labor Day weekend we braved the frigid winds and went to Arts Beats and Eats in Royal Oak.  It was a fun time had by all…I mean, who doesn’t love the pushing and shoving of a large crowd while trying to navigate a stroller.  I am sure there were many squished toes and dinged shins by the time we left.  However that is beside the point…

We were corralled like a herd of cattle casually made our way down to the carnival area.  Rides galore.  Midway games galore.  I vaguely recall hearing the words “We’ll be right back” and off go Hubby and Avery. Carson and I spent the next little while gawking people watching. (SERIOUSLY, I couldn’t stop staring at the woman whose – let’s just call him her slave significant other – was carting her lazy ass through the crowd in a covered chariot type lounge chair contraption.  Did I mention he was shirtless?  I scanned the crowds for Ashton, thinking this whole crowd was getting Punk’d – nope – it was REAL)  Whoops – back to the story.

I turn back to the direction where the two of them wandered off…to see them coming towards me.  Avery has the BIGGEST grin ever on her face.  And my eyes slide down to her hand.  And what is she carrying?  A clear plastic bag with a giant fucking goldfish in it. (If you missed it – we had another goldfish incident on our wedding night.  Read HERE to refresh your memory – it’s a good story about 1/2 way down the post.  This could have been one of THOSE fish judging by the size of it).  This fish in a bag survived a bumpy stroller ride and the handling of an enthusiastic 5 year old.

Rarely, and I mean rarely, do I give the stink eye to Hubby.  I just don’t.  However…this is one of those occasions.  Why?  Because I had vision of my history of fish…all of which ended belly up in a fish bowl after very short periods of time.  I had the scent of goldfish in my nostrils even before our fish made it home and out of its plastic bag.

Apparently the game was to bounce a ping pong ball onto a plate.  Hubby bought two tries – one for each of them.  He missed and Avery nailed it.  Can you believe it?  No?  Neither did I.  However Avery thinks she won her goldfish and that makes me extremely happy.

Hubby told Avery “We will stop at the pet store on the way home and get a fish tank”.   Hubby ignored my second stink eye of the day and marched on.

I will spare you the details of the trip to Pet Supplies Plus but just know that we left there $40 lighter in the pocket with the following:

1.5 Gallon Aquarium Set complete with filter and fake plants

1 neon car

1 Spongebob

1 fish net

1 bag of neon gravel

I value sized canister of Goldfish Flakes


2 more fish (yes – you read that right)


And with a drumroll I proudly introduce:

The big one trolling the bottom for food is Goldie.  She came home from the fair with us.  The other two at the top are Emma and Silver Swimmer.  Yeah.  You heard me right.

Avery agreed to be the caretaker of these beauties.  Uh huh.  Yeah.  You heard me right.

That lasted two days.  Goldie, Emma and Silver (for short) wallowed in the endless supply of food and cringed at the persistent glass tapping.

Finally, Mom (that’d be ME) took over.  So now I care for, fed and clean the tank regularly.

How the fuck did that become my job?  Because I’m the mom.  That’s why.

And after I bitched about it all evening…Hubby said “You know those fish make your daughter happy.”  Yeah, I know.  Which is why I will do everything in my power to keep them from going belly up.

Life in General

Said Goodbye…Again

You may have seen in my Summer Recap that we had to say goodbye to Bear.

Hubby had him since he was 6 months old (Bear, not Hubby) and he lived past 13.  That’s a long time.  A lot of history.  A lot of memories.  A lot of dead birds.

In September 2002 we got a friend for Bear.  Her name was Montana.   She had a very rough go of it before we brought her home.  We never really knew for certain how old she was, but we had her for 8 years.  Almost to the day.  A little over a week ago, we had to say goodbye to her as well.

She was sick.  Very sick.  And we did everything we could.  But it was time.

What a hard decision to make for a pet…we wrestled with it both times, but in the end we knew what was most humane.  Saying goodbye two times, a month apart, has changed the whole dynamic of our house.  Hubby says it will be years before we get a new dog.  I think it will be sooner rather than later.

Avery has taken this like a champ.  Every few days, she will mention the dogs and how happy they must be to be together in heaven, chasing birds.  Her 5 year old mind just amazes me.

Carson may not get that we don’t have dogs anymore…he still does look out the back door and yell MO MO…but he doesn’t linger.  He moves on.  He has a new best friend.

Surprise!  We have a cat!  Meet the *new* MO MO – his name is actually Casper.  He isn’t new.  He isn’t a kitten.  He’s 14 and I have had him all his life.  Now that there are no dogs, he feels liberated from a life in our basement, chasing spiders and guarding his food from Montana.  What he didn’t count on was a very enthusiastic 14 month old.   Carson has his number.  In a short week Carson has learned his hiding spots and will stalk the cat with purpose and yell MO MO.  This morning I caught him wrestling with the cat.  At first Casper was none too fond of this new attention.  I think he was expecting a peaceful existence, spending his days under the dining room table lapping up a few rays of sunshine or up on Avery’s bed, hanging with the Pillow Pet.  NO SUCH LUCK.  Godsped Casper…Carson isn’t going anywhere.

But then again…I think Casper is going to outlive us all.

Life in General


Author’s note – No one was injured during the course of this post.  Well…except maybe my ego.   And a mailbox.  And Olivia.
I felt an all new level of anxiety for the past week last night…But in order to tell you WHY, for y’all to fully grasp the emotion I felt, I have to go back to Labor Day weekend.

It all started when…

My friend Wendy (hi Wendy…I think you probably knew where this was going when you saw the word MAILBOX.  And I am thankful that I can still call you my friend after *THE INCIDENT*)…Where was I?  Oh yeah…so Wendy asked if Avery could come to her house and play with her sweet adorable daughter, Caitlin.  Of course…and after some quiet time with my little guy, I went over to pick her up.  Wendy lives on a cul-de-sac with a extremely lovely island in the middle.  An island right at the end of her driveway.  Directly at the end…(this is KEY to my story so please bear with me.)  I rolled up in Olivia the Vibe (named by Avery.  You thought I was going to tell you that an innocent child or animal named Olivia was hurt…not the case.)

I loaded Avery up and after 10,002 goodbyes, we started to roll.  My eyes were COMPLETELY 100% focused on the island, with the big tree and the fence around it.  I started cutting early.  Too early.  And suddenly WHAM.  What the fuck?  Huh?  I check my mirror for a parked car.  Nope.  SHIT.  I hit a kid.  FUCK.  I jumped out of my car and raced around back, iPhone in hand to call 911.  I breathed a sigh of relief (sorta) that it was ONLY Wendy’s mailbox.  Her mailbox now leaning like the Tower of Pisa.  I thought about driving off…but she’s my friend.  So back into the driveway I pull and go up to the door.  She didn’t believe me at first.  But maybe she heard the tremble in my voice and saw the beads of sweat forming on my upper lip.  Then she looked…past my car…and saw the damage.  We surveyed it and she promised not to sue me.  I was about to go on my merry way, and try to figure out the best way to tell Hubby about my accident…when Wendy’s husband pulled up.  I apologized profusely and sprinted out of there, leaving a bend mailbox post in my wake.  (And it isn’t your every day mailbox post…it’s like an axle from an 18 wheeler or something.  I backed into something that is built to hold tons of weight.  Way to go, me!)

Wendy and I remained friends after that.  She didn’t immediately defriend me on Facebook so I figured all was well.

Fast Forward now to earlier this week.   Wendy and I had a meeting to attend.  And she asked if she could hitch a ride.  Sure thing.  I told her I would pick her up.  It wasn’t until AFTER I agreed to drive that it dawned on me that I would have to run the gauntlet again.  I’d have to successfully navigate her cul-de-sac avoiding not only a huge tree and a fence, but also her sturdier than oak mailbox post.  Fuck.

It kept me up at night.


And Thursday night rolled around.  I cruised over to her house.  Pulled into the driveway (you bet I gave that mailbox the evil eye).  There was her husband, mowing the lawn.  When I got out of the car…he smiled.  And said “This time just back straight out.  You’ll be fine.”  Um, sure thing.

The moment came.   Seatbelts buckled.  Car in gear.  Backwards I start to roll.  I swear that a fucking snail was moving faster than I was.  My palms were sweating.  My right leg was shaking as I slowly eased up on the brake.  Think Ted Striker.  (Airplane! for those of you who don’t know)

I’ll bet Wendy was glad I was wearing my Secret.  Clinical Strength.  Bought specifically for this occasion.

I DID IT!  Nothing hit.  Nothing damaged.  No potential lawsuits.  THANK GOD!

My confidence was back.  And I was able, 1 1/2 hours later, to successfully drop her back at her house and get home, unscathed, in the dark.

But Wendy, next time can you drive?