My Laughing Place & Lamentations

Dear Princess Santa?

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 03:40:00 +0000

Tonight during dinner, Olivia started talking about random things. One of those things was a letter she recently wrote to Princess Jasmine from the movie "Aladdin". She was very serious when she told me about the letter.

Let me back up just so you know what was running through my mind as Olivia spoke. Olivia is in the Fourth Grade and is almost 10 years old. Olivia was a very easy baby, easy toddler and easy-ish preschooler. That all changed when she was in the First Grade, which is when somebody made Olivia feel like she had to pick either Mommy or Daddy's side instead of staying neutral. Since then, Olivia has been...a challenge. She yells at me (indoor voice? ha!). She's disrespectful (her tongue will get stuck sticking out of her mouth if she keeps it up). She cusses at me (yep, it's true...I'm apparently a bitch). She throws things (like shoes) at my head while I'm driving. She kicks me (want to see the bruises on my legs?). She breaks my things (and then replaces those things with her very own money). She runs off in public and tells people that I left her alone (I was paged in a store just last Friday). Someone who was recently close to me but is thankfully no longer around called her a complete nightmare.

Here's the thing: I can tell that she is very much aware of the "nightmare" she is and doesn't feel good about herself when she acts that way. Olivia knows that I do not deserve such treatment but she is unable to accept her life as it is and that frustrates her. She takes those frustrations out on me. Olivia is smarter than me and smarter than her father. She watches everything and nothing gets past her. She partially thinks that she's an adult and argues argues argues. She's a tough cookie...in a lot of bad ways. I'd like to see her be tough in good ways.

So, back to the letter...

I remember when I was in the Fourth Grade right about this time of year, my brother (Kindergarten) and I were writing letters to Santa. I can't remember the beginning of my letter but I know halfway down I switched to cursive so Joe wouldn't be able to read what I wrote. The cursive part went something like this:

Mom, I am writing in cursive so Joe won't know that Santa isn't real. I really want an Easy Bake Oven so I can make cookies and brownies. I don't want any of the things I printed. I really really really want an Easy Bake Oven.

There was more to the letter but all I asked for was an Easy Bake Oven and I went on and on about what a good big sister I was by taking the Cursive Precaution to keep Santa alive for my little brother. Apparently, I thought Mom would appreciate that I was in cahoots with her and reward me by placing a plastic box with a light bulb inside wrapped up all prettily under the tree.

(Yes, Joe, I pulled a fast one on you. So sorry. If it makes you feel any better, do you remember me ever having an Easy Bake Oven? Didn't think so.)

I did, however, get a cassette tape of Olivia Newton John's "Physical" that year. I just love leg warmers!

When Olivia started talking about her letter to Princess Jasmine today, I could tell she still thought Jasmine was real. Her eyes were serious and she said it was very very important that I find Jasmine's address and send her the letter. All I could think about was how it didn't make sense that this uber-smart Fourth Grade girl thought Jasmine was real when I knew Santa was a hoax as a slightly above-average Fourth Grade girl *mumble-mumble* years ago. So, I told Olivia to bring me the letter and I would send it out tomorrow.

When Olivia went to bed, I opened the envelope and read the letter for the purpose of faking a response from Jasmine in a couple of weeks:

Dear Princess Jasmine,

My name is Olivia and I am 9 years old. You are my favorite princess. I saw your play when Mama took me to Disneyland. I was the girl who gave you the leaf. My mom was the lady who took our picture. She has short hair but does not look like a boy. I am mean to her but she is still nice to me. I have been reading your "Princess Manners" book. I am trying to help her more and not be so mean. I do the dishes a lot. Say hi to Aladdin and Raja for me.

Sincerely,
Olivia

Am I going to mail this letter to Agrabah? Nope. I'm going to keep it to remind myself that Olivia is a just a kid and not to change anything I am doing because even though she wears me out, something is getting through to her. I will tell her to be quiet when she yells. I won't accept bratty behavior. I will have her apologize if she calls me a bad name. I won't allow her to throw things or kick my shins. I will continue to make her replace anything of mine that she breaks. I won't let her know that when she sneaks away from me in public, I am still watching her. I will not let an adult tell me that she is a "nightmare" and use Olivia as an excuse for his/her own bad behavior instead of being supportive. Those types of "adults" are not welcome in my life and the only point he/she proved is that he/she has some growing up to do. I have my own mixed up kid to raise; I don't need the adult version draining my energy as well.

Does this make me a bitch? Nope. It makes me a tough cookie...in a good way. And that is something I will not change.

People would be so much happier if they took a simpler approach to things they didn't like by changing what they can change, accepting what they can't change and adapting to life after change. Anything else is just complicating things for the sake of fighting change, which is frustrating and unnecessary. Adults need to set the example for kids so kids won't become mixed up adults.

Olivia can wash all of the dishes she wants. Princess Jasmine thinks it is a step in the right direction.

23 Things

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 03:03:00 +0000

In honor of the 23rd day of the month, I am going to list 23 things that frustrate and annoy me or that I'm not happy about in general (in no particular order):

The spot in the middle of my spine that feels like it needs to crack
All of the laundry waiting to be laundered
No matter how hard I try to keep my car uncluttered, Olivia fills it up with papers from school every day of every week
Outsourcing to India
My car needs new tires and brakes
Olivia won't stop drinking straight from the milk carton
My yard and how I cannot keep up with it
The slick of sweat that covers me by the end of every day even if I haven't done anything physically taxing
It is almost impossible to have an adult life for more than two to ten hour increments once a week at the most
Toenails
Trying to find a venue for my class reunion that isn't the Elks or some random grange
Having a major coughing fit if I laugh or am not careful about the way I breathe when talking even though I haven't been sick for over a week
Plucking my eyebrows
All of the stuff that is still in my house that I need to get rid of even though I just purged a lot in a garage sale
Sick kids (mine or my cousins'/friends' kids)
Wanting what I can't have due to life getting in the way
The weird smell in my car
Olivia's sass and drama
People who are not completely honest and/or conceal things for their own selfish reasons - especially when it is detrimental to and/or hurts others
Cellulities
Feeling like I never have enough time to truly explore the things and people I find interesting and would like to know more about
Living too far away/Life being too busy to be able to spend time with my closest friends
Not being able to watch the Blazer games because I don't have Comcast Cable

Well, it appears I am not happy with reality at the moment. Sounds like I need to grow up and be a big girl some day soon.

I'm Baaaaack...Maybe...

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 06:02:00 +0000

I'm seriously thinking about blogging again. Now, to find something blog-worthy...

Groovy!

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 23:42:00 +0000

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

I Have No Words

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 03:39:00 +0000

Olympics

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 03:28:00 +0000

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Should I Be Worried?

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 07:10:00 +0000

OLIVIA

NICK NOLTE

Why Why Why ???

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 05:09:00 +0000

I've been aware of this for quite some time now but just couldn't bring myself to believe it could be true. Unfortunately, it is and I'm now ready-ish to deal with it. There is no reason why Clay Aiken should be Bravely Bold Sir Robin in Spamalot. Serious. No reason at all.

There...I got it off of my chest. I've acknowledged and admitted that it is reality but I don't have to like it.

I Am A Bloody Genius

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 01:20:00 +0000

Olivia isn't known for keeping her room clean. Olivia is known for telling me just how bored she is because there is nothing to do. My answer is always: "Then go clean your room." This is always met with a very loud, "That's boring!" and then an equally loud, "I'm hungry!"

On Saturday morning, I told Olivia that I had a very important project for her to work on over the weekend.

Olivia likes projects. Olivia was intrigued.

I told Olivia that she needed to bring everything out of her room and divide them into three separate piles. I put three pieces of paper on the living room floor that said: KEEP, GARBAGE and GIVE AWAY. I told Olivia that I could not help because only she could decide into which pile her things belonged.

Olivia likes projects. Olivia was excited.

Hour One: Lots of energy; stuff coming out of her room at an impressive rate.

Hour Two: Break #1.

Hour Three: Not so much energy; stuff coming out of her room at a medium-slow rate. Break #2.

Hour Four: Tears, tears and tears. Break #3.

Hour Five: Lunch. Back to work. I'm a mean mommy.

Hour Six: Stuff coming out of her room whenever it feels like coming out of her room. I poked my head in to see what was going on to find Olivia reading a book. I commented that she was running out of time to earn the reward.

"Reward? What reward? You didn't say anything about a reward, Mama!"

"Yep, everything in your room has to be in one of the piles before bedtime or you won't get the reward."

Stuff coming out of her room at an impressive rate.

Bribes are good.

Hour Seven: Lots of crashes and bangs coming from her room as well as..."This is stupid!..."I'll never finish in time!"..."Awwwwww, why do I have so much stuff?!?"..."Why am I doing this?"..."I'm doomed!"

Hour Eight: "Mama, do I have to get the stuff under my bed, too? NOOOOO! That's not fair! I thought you only meant the stuff in the middle of my room! You're a mean mommy!" Break #4. Back to work. Unintelligable mumbling coming out of her room. I'm pretty sure it was hateful crap about me.

Hour Nine: "I'm never going to let my room get this messy ever again!"

That was what I was waiting for. Now, she can have some ice cream.

I am a bloody genius.

Now...what do I do with this giant GARBAGE pile?

The Dating World Is A Dangerous Place

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 16:33:00 +0000

Last Thursday as I left work, a car was pulled up to the front of the building and a lady was getting into the car. The doors on this car went up instead of out to the side. The lady pulled the door down to close it and the car drove away.

I was not aware that driveable DeLoreans were still around.

If you are going out and the guy has parked a DeLorean in front of your house, is the date over?

OUCH!

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 17:13:00 +0000

I'm not sure but I may have broken my neck.

UPDATE:
I heard/felt a big "POP!" and now I can turn my head to the left about 1 inch.

I still think my neck is broken.

UPDATE:
My neck is not broken. It's just The Worst Neck Kink...EVER!

Shirts, Pants and Negligent Parents

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sun, 27 Jan 2008 06:18:00 +0000

Today, Olivia and I went to Birthday Party #1 (tomorrow is Birthday Party #2). Joe, Jess, Tom and Tom's family were there, too. Joe had to leave early because he was scheduled to work at Wild Tamales. After Birthday Party #1, I was hungry and Tom's wife needed to buy some pants for one kid and a Webkins for her other kid so we went to...the mall.

We figured that we should either eat or get coffee first so we headed towards the food court. There was very loud music coming from one of the stores so I asked, "How can they work in there with all of that loud music?" Tom's wife immediately agreed and then we yelled at some kids to pull up their pants and keep off of the grass. Tom said that the store must be the dance party store.

Suddenly, Tom's wife turned to me and said, "Isn't Joe at work right now? We should surprise him at Wild Tamales!" My eyes lit up and then we both squealed like 15 year old girls with 4th row tickets to the New Kids On The Block concert complete with that obnoxious hopping/jumping/hand clapping thing even though we had just told our kids to calm down.

Tom's wife and I lead by example.

We went to Wild Tamales and talked to Joe, who had two minutes left of his break. Mitch and Morris were there but not Merlin. I'm happy to report that I did not see any vomit coming out of Mitch. I also didn't buy any buttons.

After we left Wild Tamales, we got something to eat, found coffee and bought Webkins and pants. As we were walking past the stores, I looked into one of the windows and said, "I like that top." Tom asked, "Why do you call it a top? Why not a shirt?"

If it has buttons down the front, I call it a shirt. If it isn't a button-down, it may be a t-shirt, turtleneck, polo shirt, sweater or tunic. If it doesn't fit into any of those categories, it's a top. I didn't bother 'splaining any of this to Tom because he is a boy. Tom's wife is a girl and therefore did not require any 'splaining. Might as well save my words for more important things such as, "Why are those little girls all by themselves? Where are their parents? That little one is about four years old and the other one isn't a day over six." (Turns out their mom was inside Hallmark and figured the bench in the middle of the mall walkway was a safe place to leave them.)

We passed by the dance party store again on our way out of...the mall. Tom promptly went inside the entrance and danced in a very dorky way. Olivia followed. People stared. Once the dance party was over and we were back on our way, Tom's wife said something about the smoking deal she found on the pants. Tom said, "Don't you mean bottoms?"

Puh-leeze.

This Is Just Nasty

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 03:20:00 +0000

Joe has been working retail for the past few months at...the mall. I've never visited him at work because that would require a trip to...the mall. To protect the identities of everybody involved, the names of the store and other employees have been changed in the following story. Joe and Jess picked the fake names.

Last Monday, Joe arrived at work around 10:45 at Wild Tamales. Mitch was already at work and asked Joe if he could clock in ASAP. Mitch had his hood pulled up over his head and looked brutal so Joe knew that something was up. Joe ditched his stuff in the back, grabbed his name tag and went behind the sales counter. Mitch was ringing up two customers and at the same time, leaned over and grabbed one of those clear plastic bowls that they usually keep pins in. Joe could see some sort of brown gunk in the bottom of the bowl.

Then it happened...

"GLOOORRRFFFFF!!!!!!!"

Mitched puked right into the bowl. Joe couldn't tell for sure if the customers saw Mitch hurl but they probably knew what was going on. After the customers left, Mitch told Joe that he wasn't feeling well and Joe would have to take over the register for the day.

Oh...it should be noted that Joe was not register trained!

Mitch gave Joe a crash course in How To Run The Register At Wild Tamales and barfed in-between sentences. Serious.

"So scan the item.......BLAAAAARGGGG!!! Hit that button..........PLUUURRRRGGGG!!! Enter the cash amount.............AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!"

After the impromptu training course, Mitch said that he had contacted the head manager, Merlin, who would come in after he took his dog to the vet. Mitch then went into the back were he spent the next two hours hunkered over the toilet and retching his brains out. Joe thought to himself, "Well, I really don't know how to run the register but it's Monday morning so it shouldn't be very busy...I'll be okay."

Unfortunately for my brother, that particular Monday was Martin Luther King Day so a lot of schools were closed.

Teenagers started to flood into Wild Tamales. They were running around, asking Joe questions that he didn't know the answers to and buying all sorts of stuff. Joe only knew the basics on running the register so he was doing a crummy job.

Scan item, run card, receipt, hope the register doesn't jam or run out of register tape.

Of course, Mitch didn't show Joe how to erase an item from the register if there was a mistake, how to run the frequent buyer cards or the gift cards, how to get those frigging plastic things off of the Cd's or any of that other stuff. Needless to say, things were hectic.

At 12:50, Joe had a line in front of him and the phone kept ringing. Mitch came out and said that he had to leave but that Merlin would be there soon and how he was really sorry about everything as nobody was expecting the store to be so busy that day. Normally, Joe would have asked him to stay until Merlin showed up but he couldn't have Mitch yakking in front of a store full of customers. However, it is also mandatory for a manager to be present at all times so Joe wasn't sure why Mitch bailed before Merlin showed up.

So there Joe was, flying solo in a consumer sh*t storm. Even though Joe was by himself on the floor earlier, Mitch was in the back so Joe could at least ask questions when needed. Sink or swim, dear brother.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang. It was Merlin.

"Hey, can I speak to Mitch?"

"Nope, he's not here."

"You mean he's in the back?"

"No, he's not here."

(Pause)......."Are you there by yourself?"

"Yep."

"@?*&%$#! Okay, I'll put the dog in the kennel and be right there!"

Joe worked alone for a solid hour before Merlin arrived and Joe told him his sob story. Merlin checked around the store and discovered that none of the pre-opening tasks had been completed. Merlin shook his head.

"I've been here seven years and this has never happened."

Merlin immediately went on a calling spree trying to get other employees to come in and help but...no dice. One person was in Africa, another one was sick, two more were in school, another one was at her other job, yadda yadda. So, Joe had to stay there a few extra hours until everything was figured out.

Joe and Merlin finally got the store under control when Morris, another employee and something of a doof, walked in.

Morris: "Hi guys!"

Merlin: "What are you doing here?"

Morris: "I'm starting my shift."

Merlin: "You're not scheduled today."

Morris: "Huh?"

Merlin: "You're not supposed to be here until Wednesday."

Morris: "Oh.......dang."

Since Joe was shell shocked, Morris took over and Joe went home.

I will NEVER buy a button out of one of those bowls again.

I'm also willing to bet that I would NOT enter the bathroom at Wild Tamales.

Frozen Meat

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 06:19:00 +0000

Olivia and I went to Costco the other day with Tom and his family. I bought some meat. So did Tom's wife. In bulk.

Mom gave me a Foodsaver for Christmas so now I can vacuum seal all the pork chops I want and toss them into the freezer. Tom's wife is jealous of my Foodsaver. We will probably have a Foodsaver party in the near future. The only problem is neither Tom's wife nor I have sufficient freezer space...which 'splains why I went online to check out freezers for the garage. I figure that I'll have room for a freezer once the 6 foot tall tool box is out of there.

Anyhoo...I started to read the reviews for the Kenmore 5.0 cu. ft. Manual Defrost Chest Freezer and...well...

"I bought this freezer to separate fish from my main fridge. It does the trick."

When do you think vgirl from Florida was 100% certain that putting fish in the freezer instead of the main fridge would separate the fish from the main fridge? Did she ask the salesperson if it would keep her fish separate from the fridge? And if not, which freezer model offers the separation feature?

"I would most certainly recommend this product to anyone needing an extra freezer for your family. It is the perfect size and holds everything. All my food in it is very cold."

Jenn081697 from Apopka, FL seems surprised that her food is very cold in the freezer.

"I enjoy this product so much, one reason being is the size. I even trust my 7 year old daughter to go in and out of it, I have found it safe for her too do so....my Kenmore Chest is still the best! Get one and Enjoy!"

Landa from Chicago really enjoys her new chest freezer. AND it doubles as a secret fort for Landa, Jr.! Versatile!

The Best Kids' Book...Ever! Gray Reef Shark

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Mon, 21 Jan 2008 12:00:00 +0000

Here we have the Gray Reef Shark.
Body - Check.
Snout - Check.
Mouth - Check.
Teeth - Checkaroonie.

Now, let's take a look at what page two has to teach the kiddos.

Lurks around the coral reef...slightly larger than a scuba diver...can-opener for a jaw...

Likes to eat squid, fish, dead things, seabirds and some crabs. Thankfully, humans are not on the menu because this fish has a massive and crippling bite!

This shark is so fierce that it can run off the ferocious tiger shark.

The male chases the female until the gal tires out and is caught. Then, he makes her his baby mama and scars her for life. This guy is a keeper, Ladies!

HATES the paparazzi.

Is obsessive/compulsive.

Ooooh...just one last section to read and then Junior can finish his book report...

Hello, My Name Is...

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 17:33:00 +0000

I am a strong believer of NOT putting pictures of yourself or your child online. Today, I am going against that belief...sort of...

This is me. I've only had one cup o' java this morning so I'm still a bit persnickety. In a perfect world, I really would be wearing a hoodie and cargo pants but I am at work which means I am dressed more like this...

Isn't it cute how I'm acting like I'm happy about wearing hose and clip-clop shoes? Don't believe my smile; I'm a big faker. My boss isn't traveling so he is in the room right next to me today. I don't want him to think that I have a bad attitude about work. Plus, he arrived at the office before I did this morning which means that he made the coffee so I didn't have to wait for it to drip...drip...drip...drip...which makes me happy-ish.

This is Olivia. She is missing two teeth. I told her that if she would put things away when she was finished, she would be able to find them later but she kept interrupting to tell me that her teeth were stolen from her during the night by a wood sprite. She then tried to dial 9-1-1 to report the theft but I was able to stop her from calling. I do NOT need to 'splain a 9-1-1 call to Officer Not Amused...again.

Or were her teeth stolen by a C.H.U.D.? I can't remember the exact creature but I'm pretty sure it can play the panflute.

Anyway...Olivia is wearing her uniform because she is at school today. I absolutely LOVE the uniforms! Makes getting ready in the morning soooooooooo much easier! No battle over how a tank top and flip-flops are NOT appropriate during the winter months.

Friday is Free Dress Day at school which means Friday morning is going to suck. If Olivia picked out something like this to wear...

...it wouldn't be too bad. Only the flip-flops would need a parental veto. (Note to self: Get Olivia's bangs trimmed on Saturday. She keeps pushing them out of her eyes.)

So, what did we learn here today?

Uniforms/Oppression = Good
Flip-Flops/Individuality = Bad
Answering the door soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel because there is an officer in uniform ringing the bell and I was in the shower = Bad

Actually, that has potential to be good. When it happens again, I'll let you know. Depends on the uniformed officer, I suppose. Unfortunately, I'll have to turn over two quarters and some sparkly dust as "evidence" which isn't the best way to get a date.

Wait a minute...are uniforms good or bad? Crap.

I'm so confused.

Go Mitt!

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 20:55:00 +0000

The beauty of Netflix is that you can watch shows from the cable channels without actually subscribing to the cable channels. (You could also do this by purchasing or renting the DVD's but I find Netflix to be more convenient.) An HBO show that I'm hooked on is "Big Love" which is about a family of Mormon polygamists in Utah. The patriarch is played by Bill Paxton (Bill); his First Wife is Jeanne Tripplehorn (Barbara); Second Wife is Chloe Sevigny (Nikki, who steals almost every scene that she's in); Third Wife is Ginnifer Goodwin (Margene).

Harry Dean Stanton plays Roman Grant aka The Prophet. The Prophet also happens to be Nikki's father. Here's the thing about The Prophet; he's kind of like a Mormom mobster. He and his posse drive around in Hummers. Bill and The Prophet have, oh...let's say, a strained relationship. It makes things a bit dangerous.

Also worth noting is the character of Alby (Matt Ross), who is The Prophet's son and quite scary. Bill's parents are Frank and Lois, who do NOT get along. (They are played by Bruce Dern and Grace Zabriskie.) Rhonda Volmer (Daveigh Chase who also played that creepy girl in the well from "The Ring") is a teenager slated to marry The Prophet and I'm fairly sure she is evil.

My Grocery Shopping Hero!

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 06:50:00 +0000

Courtesy of Tom's wife....

If I weren't already semi-married, I'd TOTALLY enter into a civil union with this gal. Well, depending on the state involved and such. I doubt it's an option in Texas...or Kentucky.

Happy New Year!

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 05:28:00 +0000

I am officially calling 2008 The Year of Leah. I don't know why; call it a hunch.

Please enjoy the following picture of Aeon the Terrible from Rudolph's Shiny New Year which may or may not still be shown on the telly.

New Year's Day was spent with my cousin, Tom (who is mostly to blame for my re-addiction to the Trailblazers...some of the blame can go to my boss, too...he tells me positive feel-good stories about the players and I miss the days of smuggling pot wrapped in a ball of tin foil through airport security because I could ignore the Blazers in those days and focus on more important things such as coffee or ice cream), and Tom's family. Tom's wife prepared a delicious soup for lunch and then we all went bowling. I broke a nail. So did Tom's wife. We blame the bowling balls.

I am a really good bowler.
Olivia's score = 81
Leah's score = 45

I am available as a ringer for your bowling league. Please contact me ASAP if you would like me on your team. I expect high interest in my bowling skills.

New Year's Resolution: Hmm...that's a tough one. I'm going to say to get back on the treadmill on a regular basis. AND...to back off of the coffee a wee bit.

Okay, I'm totally lying about the coffee. I'll probably increase my intake. I'll do anything I can to stain my teeth a disgusting shade of Burnt Sienna.

Smelly Heat

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 02:17:00 +0000

About a month ago, Mocha went missing. She wasn't acting like herself one day so I had planned to take her to the vet but she didn't come home. I'm pretty sure she found a hidey-hole like some cats do when they are sick.

Very sad. Mocha was a good cat.

About a week ago, a putrid smell started coming out of the air vents every time the heat kicked on. I turned on the air conditioning...same putrid smell. It was faint at first so I let it go for a couple of days without too much worry. Each day, the smell was stronger and stronger; it was a sewer smell with just a touch of fishy-ness and some other kind of foul stench. I began to wonder if I had found Mocha.

A couple of days ago, I was talking to Josie on the phone when the heat kicked on.

"Ugh! There is something stanky coming out of my air vents. I'm afraid it may be Mocha."

"I wish I could smell it because I know dead smells and could tell you on the spot. One time, there was a dead cat under our back porch and it stank for two weeks. It wasn't fun getting that cat out from under the porch."

Josie confirmed that there was a bit of a fishy smell to the dead cat under her porch. This information did not make me feel better and I began to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of an investigative journey into the crawl space before the vents burped out a gaggle of flies.

(Who am I kidding? There is no way I would ever go under the house. I'm just pretending to be all tough and capable like that. This is a boy-only task; this is why boys exist.)

Last night, the smell coming from the vents was so bad I thought my eyeballs would melt. I opened several windows, pulled the blanket over my head and went to sleep. This morning, the smell was still there so I looked online to check movie times and began to plan our day far away from the house. I decided to do a search for "raunchy vent smell" and found a question and answer forum. One of the postings was for a situation very similar to mine and one answer had three possibilities:

dead animal, leaking sewer pipe or dried out P-Trap.

Apparently, if there is a drain in the house that doesn't get much use, the P-Trap dries out and can cause sewer gas to be sucked into the air intake for the furnace. Something about the pipes that stick out of the roof. It was suggested to run water in all of the drains and see if the smell went away.

The bathtub in the second bathroom doesn't get much use anymore so I crossed my fingers and turned on the water. I went into the living room, turned up the thermostat and waited for the curtains to start blowing around. I walked over, steeled myself, stuck my face into the air and sniffed. I smelled nothing. I felt a little better but needed a second opinion.

"Olivia, can you do me a favor and tell me what the air coming out of that vent smells like?"

"It doesn't smell like anything, Mama."

Relief! On soooo many levels!

Olivia and I miss Mocha. We have a garden statue for Mocha but haven't figured out yet where to put it in the yard. It will probably go someplace close to the front door because every day when we came home from work/school, Mocha was always waiting for us by the front door. She would also try to open the front door by jumping and then hanging from the door knob. The neighbors told me that her hanging record was 12 minutes.

That cat was cool.

Flight Of The Outback Steakhouse

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 05:24:00 +0000

Have you ever wondered what happened to that caveman who used to be in the Outback Steakhouse commercials?

His name is Jemaine and he's one-half of a band named Flight of the Conchords. They also have a show on HBO by the same name.

The other half of FOTC is Bret. You may recognize him as an Elf Escort from the movie The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.

More songs should have binary solos.

Blog Bullies

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Tue, 30 Oct 2007 01:44:00 +0000

It looks like Abi is trying to get more people blogging.

I'm right there with you, Abi! It's just not fair that everybody else can read our blogs but don't have a blog to reciprocate. Let's get these people motivated and blogging before New Year's Eve!

I have a feeling that your approach will be different than mine. You provided interesting topics customized for each individual. My style will probably be to annoy and pester until people comply just to get rid of me.

You are the like the Outside Salesperson who takes clients out for a nice lunch.

I am like the Telemarketer who randomly calls people when they are trying to eat dinner.

On A Scale From One To Ten...

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 05:59:00 +0000

...I rate those a Russell Crowe.

Let's say that you and I are at the mall, you try on a pair of jeans and ask for my opinion. Even though they are the latest style and most people are wearing them, they're not very flattering and I think the brand is overrated so I say, "Meh...about a four."

Of course, anything less than an eight is unacceptable so you pass on the jeans and we mosey on down to the food court for a Jamba Juice.

In real life, this situation probably wouldn't happen for two reasons: my strong aversion to the mall and the fact that I do not rate via the 1 to 10 scale system anymore. I have created my own rating system...The Man Scale. A celebrity represents a number from 1 to 10. Instead of rating those jeans a four, I would have said, "Meh...about a Russell Crowe" because I find Crowe less-than-average in the looks department and just a wee bit overrated.

Pretty stupid, huh?

When Gladiator came out, one of my friends kept telling me to watch it because Russell was half-nekkid most of the time. This did not entice me to watch the movie because when I think of Russell Crowe, I immediately think of Sloth from The Goonies. I think they are the same except one is less pirate-y.

Here is The Man Scale that I use:

1 = Carrot Top (Shudder)

2 = Ric Ocasek (Eat a sandwich already)

3 = Steve Buscemi

4 = Russell Crowe

5 = John Cusack (Solid average)

6 = Edward Norton

7 = Chris Isaak (He dresses up in concert)

8 = Christian Bale

9 = Dennis Quaid/Steve McQueen

10 = Paul Newman, Paul Newman, Paul Newman and Paul Newman

I highly recommend the movie Slap Shot but be warned of the foul language. Newman's wardrobe in the movie is incredible.

The QFC Pharmacist Needs A Publisher

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 05:18:00 +0000

Today, I went to QFC to "pick up a prescription" but I suspect the real reason was to see if that giant pumpkin had been hauled away. (There was no sign of the pumpkin.) The pharmacist gave me my meds and also handed over some sort of punch card.

"Oh, we're having the customer keep these cards instead of keeping track of them behind the counter."

I looked at the card and saw that each time I filled a prescription, QFC marked off a box and I could earn QFC gift cards. Free-ish money!

"Here's your $10 gift card. Oh...and these are only for fun."

Whoa whoa whoa. What was up with that "fun" comment? I must investigate.

"I wasn't even aware of this card. You say it's for fun only. Does that mean people pester you about these things instead of just having fun with them?"

The pharmacist scanned the area, saw that nobody was within earshot and said, "You wouldn't believe it. People will have five prescriptions sitting back there but will pick them up one at a time so they can check off five boxes on the card."

I informed him that he should keep a journal behind the counter to take notes about customer comments/behavior. After two or three years, he'd have enough material to write a book. Name it something along the lines of Consultation Counter Confessions. My friend, Sue, and I always talk about writing our own book about the crap we saw while working at Nordstrom. If it was a crazy situation, one of us would be involved if not both of us. And it was always on a Sunday. My shining moment was having a customer follow me into the bathroom, wait until I was inside the stall and then ask me to give change for a dollar. Did she think I was wearing a change belt? Psycho Sunday. My favorite Sue moment was when some guy told her that she had the "spirit of Jezebel" and then started to recite Scripture. He was personally introduced to Nordstrom security. Psycho Sunday.

Good times.

I told the pharmacist he could make some extra money off of such a book. He said, "Yesterday, I told a customer that her prescription would be ready in 10 minutes. She then asked if it could be filled immediately because she didn't want to die."

I have no idea how old that customer was or what the heck she was taking pills for but it's kind of sad that she was worried about dying while waiting for her prescription.

My favorite was the pharmacist checking the perimeter before spilling the dirt about the punch cards.

Guess My Weight

noreply@blogger.com (Leah) — Sat, 20 Oct 2007 20:10:00 +0000

The other day, I went to QFC to get some groceries. In the produce department, there was a big pumpkin sitting on a table. The person to correctly guess the weight of the pumpkin wins the prize and the drawing is...today! Exciting!

Unfortunately, the prize is the actual pumpkin and I don't know what anybody would want with a pumpkin of this size.

I think QFC doesn't want to deal with the problem of disposing of the pumpkin and this is how they are trying to get rid of the thing. Don't be fooled by that fancy leaf QFC stuck on the top. Fancy leaf does not equal first place prize.

I really hope the chump...I mean, the winner drives a Smart Car and not a monster truck.