Vermin II: The Capture

My rodent friend thought he could get away with another sneak around my office, but my now-empty trash can got the better of him. When I was in my office this morning, I heard what sounded like papers rattling, which is normal; I usually have papers stuck on the wall and they tend to end up on the floor. This morning, however, there was a noise without moving papers. Creepy. My mind immediately went to “RAT” because of the previous day’s evidence on my desk.

I walk over to investigate.

Alas, I was wrong, T’was not a rat: t’was a mouse. A crazed-up mouse running and pooping everywhere.

He stayed with me in my office for half of the day. I began to have thoughts of keeping him and naming him Rufus. That is, until my nose started going haywire. Once the snot came, the mouse went.

I don’t know exactly what they did to Rufus, but I think I’d rather not find out. I’m sure he was dealt with severely.

And now I’m home and doped up on a drowsiness-inducing antihistamine, and am wondering if I am typing nonsense. It’s quite hard to tell. I’ll probably read it tomorrow and bust out into laughing fits or tears. Cause I do want to make sense, and be amusing. I do try.

I’m obviously not that good at it, ’cause none of y’all ever give me any nifty comments at the bottom. Yeah, you know who you are.

Nobody loves me; that’s sad.

I think I’m gonna go to bed now; the medicine wills it so.

Of Mice and Vermin

I realized something this morning: I left Renton’s favorite yellow mouse fetch toy at his Daddy’s this weekend.

Oh, agony, agony! How could I have been so careless? It would be one thing to forget some balls, his cat condo, or yes, even his Otter. Actually, I’m sure the Otter would enjoy the break from constant molestation. But you can’t leave the favorite yellow mouse fetch toy! What else is there for him to go crazy over, careening though the house with that banana-like mouse clutched in his teeth? How else can I wear him out right before it’s time to go to bed? What in the world did we do before Renton got that thing in his Christmas stocking?

This week was going to be a long week . . . until I went to Wal-Mart this afternoon.

Yes, today I bow down to the idol that is WallyWorld, for they had twenty of those little yellow mousies lining the shelves of the cat toy section. Brand new toys, sparkling clean, fresh, and ready to go. They even had their tails attached. I point this out because Renton’s poor mouse had the appearance of being run through Renton’s own personal kitty Enron shredder and hole puncher deluxe. I had already re-stitched it once.

I bought two packages of the suckers. One for now, one for later, and hopefully by the time Renton shreds through those, I’ll have enough money saved up to buy every goofy yellow Wal-Mart mouse I can find.

Best $1.76 I’ve ever spent.

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Speaking of mice, I believe quite a few of them had a party on my office desk while I was away at Auburn. They forgot to clean up their mess, those party-reveling fools. Nothing wakes your ass up better on a Monday than the sight of rodent shit trailing around your office.

Not to worry, though. I do believe that they will be caught and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

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And finally, after a week of aggravation and despair, the company website is back online. Huzzah! goes the webmaster. I was also asked if I would be interested in doing some contract work in web design for other clients of our new hosting server. Huzzah! goes the webmaster again. Lord knows I’ve got the time, or else I wouldn’t be writing on this thing as much as I do. I don’t know if anything will ever come of it, but I surely appreciate just the compliment and confidence in my work, especially since I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing. Ha ha ha, I could have a website design company called WTF, Ltd. Motto: “When you see our designs, you say, ‘WTF!’ ” Yesssss, the marketing capabilities are endless . . .

Dude, Where’s My Job?

Well, I have had an enjoyable last two days at work; I feel like I have watched cartoons all day, the old Warner Brothers cartoons, to be more specific. To be even more specific, Mel Blanc has been singing in my ear, much to my amusement.

Now you think I’m crazy, right? Uhh, well I am sorta crazy, but not that crazy. Hark, I feel an explanation coming on.

I use an internet-based music subscription service, both at home and work, and this week I have been listening to musicals. Cats, Chicago, Les Miserables, My Fair Lady, Urinetown, Moulin Rouge, just a whole mix. When I was putting together this playlist, I came upon a set of songs called Bugs on Broadway. Interesting . . .

It turns out that it is the full soundtrack, both music and vocals, of those Bugs Bunny cartoons where ol’ Bugs was singing. All we need is four words here, people:

The. Rabbit. Of. Seville.

! ! !

My second-favorite Warner Brothers cartoon of all time, following closely behind Duck Amuck, but that’s another story. So let me set the scene for you . . .

I’m sitting at work, hunched over some irrigation plan doing more math than is necessary, and Bugs is singing in rhymes while butchering Fudd’s hair. I have seen this cartoon so much, mostly due to my intense absorption of all Merrie Melodies cartoons in my childhood, that I am actually seeing these cartoons play in my mind’s eye, just as if I was back at home watching the animation on that old cabinet T.V. we had.

I don’t work. I listen to music, watch cartoons, draw, and color all day, and I get paid for it.

Wowzers.

Now if I could only engineer how to instantly teleport myself down to Auburn every afternoon . . . that would be AWESOME!

Thank You Ever So Much

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Goofy-Present-Buyer,

Thank you so very much for the absolutely goofy gift that you sent to us for our wedding. We are absolutely speechless over it; we’re really not quite sure what it is yet, but once we figure it out, we’ll be sure to use it for it’s intentended purpose and love it. It absolutely does not match with anything else that we own or would ever would think to own. It is so nice to know how much you were thinking of us.

We are sorry that you couldn’t make it to our wedding, but since we have not seen you in such an absolutely long time, we probably wouldn’t have recognized you in the first place. However, we truly missed having you there. Once again, thank you very much for the useless, ugly gift; we hope to see you soon!

Love,
Carrie and Steven

The Honeymooners, Or How We Had A Blast In Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Towne

I’m back again to continue on my long-winded rendition of an action-packed week Steven and I had a few weeks ago. So today, kids, I’ll tell a story of Charleston, complete with horse pee, really bad eggs, decorated palm trees (just like that Corona commercial), and Williston.

We left on Sunday morning from the Tutweiler Hotel in Birmingham (ha ha ha, our friends didn’t know where we were staying at, but it wouldnt’ve mattered if they did, ’cause there was no car there anyway). Our parents brought us some food, clothes we left (I have never been so happy to see my hiking boots), and the car. So off we went on a nice, sunny day, while I was snapping pictures as we drove by interesting stuff (interesting being a trolley, a gingko tree, and a building in the reflection of another building . . . cool).

The drive wasn’t all that bad, but it wasn’t terribly interesting, either. Georgia should think about building less around Atlanta and start working on filling up that dead space between Atlanta and Augusta.

In South Carolina we went through a town called Williston. I got some pictures for Willis. We found his town! We got to Charleston about seven in the evening, eastern time. Time to find the hotel and eat! It had been a long time since that Arby’s in Augusta.

After a wrong turn and a very creepy drive around Battery Park, we found the Harborview Inn, our abode during our stay in town. They parked our car for us, so I was amused. There was also a cool, old map on the wall, so I was twice amused. I was thrice amused when the dude at the front desk said they could make recommendations and get reservations for us, so we took him up on his offer and asked if there was a place close by where we could get something “light.” He recommended a place that served a whole bunch of appetizer that you can nibble off of.

It felt good to walk. Probably one of the things I miss most about college is the walking. That was my only form of exercise, and now I don’t even get that. Not a block from our hotel, we came upon a Subway. I made a mental note to get a picture of that later. The restaurant, Meritage, was about four blocks up the street. It was very good, too. We had a crab cake, something with filet mignon, and some roasted peppers and onions with cheese. I was amused yet again. Then we were off back to the hotel; we were full and tired. I think I burped peppers that night. Tasty!

The next day we had no specific itinerary; there was a whole town to see without required tours and excursions getting in the way. It turns out they named our inn ‘Harborview’ for a reason; we were right on the water. There was even a nifty pier we could walk down on. By the smell, we reasoned it was at low tide. We decided it smelled like really bad eggs. I think we quote Pirates of the Caribbean too much.

I took an inventory of my film, and rationed out four rolls for that day (Monday), another four for Tuesday, and one for Christmas. Fifteen minutes later, when we were halfway down the Battery and on the third roll of film, I quickly amended the film ration to eight rolls for that day and more film would be bought later.

Most of the morning I walked around with the camera constantly attached to my face; I’m amazed I didn’t walk off the pier. Most of our walk was dotted with my exclamations of “Oooooh, look at the trees!” *snap* “Ooooh, neat statue!” *snap* “Neat! A boot scraper!” *snap* “Wow!” *snap* “Oh, my God, a camellia!” *snap*. I’m so glad Steven tolerates me.

We also met some interesting people. We met an old man at Waterfront Park when I was getting some pictures of this fantastic pineapple fountain. He asked if we would like him to take our picture in front of said fountain. We said, “Okay!” I know what you’re thinking; that was pretty dumb to hand over my $300 camera to some stranger. Yeah, it usually is. I talked to Steven about it later, and we had the same thought going through our head: “If he took off . . . we could catch him.” This dude was no spring chicken, mind. It turned out he was okay.

“This isn’t your normal $39.95 K-mart camera,” he jovially remarked.

We even talked about football, once he realized we were from Alabama. Auburn versus Alabama, Clemson versus South Carolina, that sort of thing. I’m mad at South Carolina, though. See previous comment about dumb Cocky.

We met another interesting couple later that evening while enjoying some wine and cheese courtesy of the Inn. They were an older couple from North Carolina, originally from New Jersey. They were on their own honeymoon of sorts because they had finally completed some annulment paperwork so their marriage was valid in the eyes of the Catholic Church. It was a very pleasant conversation, no doubt encouraged by the generous helping of wine. We talked about traveling, golf, cultural differences between North and South, Auburn (they had been there and loved it), dancing lessons, and even more subjects I can’t remember right now. Very interesting people.

For lunch that day we ate at Hyman’s (yeah, I know) Seafood. It was fantastic; well worth the wait. I sat where Timothy Dalton had sat, and Steven was sitting where Anthony Hopkins had once dined. I think I amused the waiter with my excitement. For dinner that evening we ate at a place called Slightly North of Broad, or S.N.O.B. for short. It was a very nice, elegant place. Steven had duck, I believe. I had something to do with beef. Probably one of the best salads I’ve had in a while. After dinner, we made it back to the Inn in time for fresh-baked cookies and milk. Steven was very excited over that.

The next day we took an hour and a half horse carriage ride around the town. If you ever go to Charleston, I highly recommend one. After Steven and I had walked around, taking in these neat, beautiful buildings, we finally got to hear tidbits of information about them. Our tour man was named Walt who had a friend in Birmingham that sold Land Rovers and loved it, and our horse was Big Jim. There was a couple from Hoover on the ride with us, and some people from Florida and California, too.

In front of the Powder Magazine building (oldest public building in Charleston), Big Jim had a Big Pee. All I can think to say is, “Wow.” When in Charleston, avoid the bubbly puddles, for they are warm and smell of ammonia. I was very impressed, and was even more impressed by Walt, who was able to tell all about the Powder Magazine with a straight face while Big Jim watered the weeds.

For lunch that day, we ate at a restaurant called 82 Queen, which was highly recommended by a number of people. After eating there, I can see why. It was a warm day, even for December, so we ate outside in the courtyard area. There were sparrows hopping about, hoping you would drop some of your crab cake, and trees surrounded us, partially blocking us off from the other patrons. I was, yet again, amused, and my many photographs from that lunch are proof of my amusement. We tried some of their specialty she-crab soup, which was absolutely spectacular. It is worth the seven hour drive, twelve dollars to park, and the six bucks for just that soup. Drive to Charleston and get yours today, yo. We got dessert there as well: I had my first creme brulee and Steven had something very, very chocolatey. We ate it all, but don’t worry, I’ve got pictures.

For dinner, we came across an Irish pub called O’Reilly’s. It was very fun as well, totally opposite from where we had dined the previous evening. We got there during their appetizer happy hour, so we got a humongous plate of calamari for only three bucks. It filled us up so much we could barely eat our actual dinner. We just sat back, relaxed, and talked while I took pictures and the T.V. screamed about Mad Cow Disease. I remember thinking I was glad I had ordered pasta. Ah, and I got a picture of the calamari, too. No worries.

After dinner and a regroup at the hotel, we were back out again, this time for a tour called The Dark Side of Charleston. We were promised stories of murder, scandal, and intrigue, along with a trip inside the old Jail. It was very amusing. We saw where someone was shot, and the killer’s building where he opened up a store later. We also learned about the old prostitute house and some other stories. The jail was really creepy. You could see where the prisoners stayed, and there were a bunch of various marks on the wall, ranging from tallies of days, a sailor’s drawing of his ship, and even some porn. Woo-hoo!

The next morning, it was already time to leave. We were able to skirt by an antique store on King Street real quick so we could get a nice souvenir, which we eventually acquired in the shape of a cut glass crystal pitcher. Then off we went to get on the interstate and head back home for Christmastime. I hated to go (Steven and I have decided we’re gonna buy one of those houses someday), but I was also looking forward to getting home to my Renton, who I hadn’t seen since the Thursday before the wedding.

Here are some of the things I noticed about Charleston in general. First off, most Charlestonians drive either Jaguars or Porches. My kind of people. Secondly, they decorate perfectly for Christmas. Most of their garland was the real stuff, be it cedar branches, magnolia leaves, or pine needles. Fantastic. Their accent is a bit heavier than the Alabamian one I’m used to. Theirs is more like what one hears in the movies. One could make a great living doing landscaping for these people. I was amazed by how much landscape they could fit into their little alleys between the houses. Hire me now! Lastly, they keep a very clean city. I was amused.

All in all, I think I took about ten rolls of pictures in Charleston. Everywhere you looked, there was something cool. Once again, I give praise to Steven who is so tolerant of me and my eccentricities.

If you know if a particular building, street, or other thing in Charleston that you need a picture of, call me. Odds are I probably have a shot of it.

Boo!

I’m back! Boo! And to start off, I give you a rant . . .

Cocky?! Best mascot of the year?! WTF! Crock-a-doo-doo. That bugger of a bird cheated, we all saw it. The last week of voting, his numbers shot way way up, getting 98% of the vote all of a sudden. Nuh-uh, that’s not nice. He ended up third in the online part anyway, which counts for only 50%. So supposedly this bird had to have been voted number one by the judges big-time to counter-act that third place finish with the people’s choice section. But it’s just some goofy looking bird that grabs it’s beak and twists it for the crowd’s amusement. Stupid bird. Aubie absolutely RULES, and his true fans know it. Stupid CapitolOne Bowl.

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Okay, no more rant. I guess now it’s time for my official take on the last couple of weeks, seeing as how Steven and I finally got married and all. Hmm, where do we start? I guess with the Wednesday that I left Fort Payne. Normally this wouldn’t be anything to hoot about, except that all of a sudden, I wasn’t feeling good that afternoon. As the afternoon wore on, and the sinus shit got worse and worse, I began to chant the F word in my head. Repeatedly. Leave it to me to get a sinus infection on my wedding. Go me, I am the High Priestess of Getting Sick At Events.

Next day was Auburn day to celebrate my sister’s graduating from college. We ate out at Provino’s that night with Jason’s family. All of us irresponsible children embarrassed everybody with bad jokes about salty garlic balls and dingleberries. Fantastic night. Blew my nose a lot. Ate a lot of M & M’s, too.

Friday was graduation day. We all met up at Samford Hall, which is THE place to get your picture taken in your cap and gown. We took pictures of Cathy in her cap and gown, of course. Steven and I ran by Tiger Rags to pick up a ceramic tiger with it’s butt in the air for Willis, then headed to the coliseum for graduation. I got some great pictures of a japanese maple in fall color on the way.

Graduation was long, of course. It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the horrible bits of wood that Auburn calls seats. Oh my aching ass. On the plus side, Dr. Thornburg, my dentist, called me in some drugs for the nose. He was my God of the Weekend.

After Cathy and the other 1,200 people were declared Done With College, we quickly headed toward Columbiana for the Rehearsal Dinner Sans Rehearsal. I got some good sunset pictures while driving on Wire Road, and Steven and I practiced our vows. I think I slept a bit as well.

In Columbiana, we went by my aunt and uncle’s house first to freshen up and change, then off to Bernie’s (formerly Bernie and Charlie’s . . . we don’t know what happened to Charlie). On the way, I saw Santa on the front porch, and he waved at me! What a nice Country Santa.

The dinner was very nice. All our people were there, the food was good, and the walls looked really cool. I’ve got a picture of it somewhere. Come to think if it, I’ve got a picture of everything somewhere. After the dinner, t’was time for bed.

Thanks to the cocktail of drugs, I slept quite well. We didn’t have to be anywhere until ten, so that was nice and non-stressful. I don’t remember too much of that morning, but that’s probably because not much of it is very interesting. I do remember being pretty calm and laid-back. Or maybe that’s just my take on it. We had to be at the Manor at four p.m. The first person I saw was Willis, on his cell phone. Then I saw Steven and the rest of the guys, and Caitlin and Holly were there, and my aunt and uncle, too.

We rehearsed first. It was pretty quick, it was also loud because the heaters were on. More about the heaters later. I met the photographer, talked to some other people, then we all went to get ready, which really didn’t take that long.

Steven and I decided that we were going to do pictures before the wedding, which is a bit of a faux pas, but it is so much better. To make a bit more of the moment, our photographer arranged it so that once I was ready, I’d be positioned all nice and pretty in the bride’s room, and Steven would come, knock on the door, I’d say, “Come in,” and he’d come in, see me, *snap* goes the photographers, then they’d give us a minute to take in the moment and exchange gifts. It worked out pretty well. I remember when Steven came in, he saw me and made this endearing, slightly comical groan sound. I think I said hi. Don’t remember. For his gift, I got him a nifty, wood-carved kaleidoscope (the kind that you look through and there’s colors), and he got me a Swarkivsokoi (HOW do you spell it?) crystal figure of a dozen rose-colored tulips. Then off to take numerous pictures.

Mostly what I remember about the pictures is a lot of our guests arrived early, so they were milling about. It didn’t bother me much, but I think our parents didn’t like it. Then we headed back upstairs to let everybody settle in so the shin-dig could start. Steven and I were talking when all of a sudden we heard the music and recognized it as the Sibelius piece. Whoops, time to go downstairs.

Second funniest moment of the wedding: I was waiting to go out with my bridesmaids and groomsmen, and I hear Willis whisper, “Carrie . . . Carrie . . .” I look at him and say, “What?” and he goes, “Carrie . . . I’m nervous,” in his most Willis-like voice. It was all I could do to not totally bust out laughing. Ahhhh hahahahahahaha!

The ceremony itself comes and goes in bursts of my memory. I remember the tent had a very yellow glow to it, I was thinking, “Don’t fall down, don’t fall down,” then, due to miscommunication with my Uncle, everybody stood up when I came down the isle, despite the note in the program that read, “Please stay seated.” “They stood up,” I whispered to my dad. Then I was up there, there was some talking, then I got to hold Steven’s hands. More talking, I don’t remember much of what was said. It was good, though. Steven and I said our vows to each other. We had worked hard to memorize them, and amazingly enough, we remembered them. I flip-flopped some of mine, though. Oops. More talking, then “Now you may kiss the bride.” “Oh yeah,” I thought. Later, Steven told me he had the same thought. We kissed, and there was some chuckling. We wondered why, and later Steven’s mom said it was because it was “a sweet kiss,” but I still wonder if we did something stupid. Then “husband and wife,” yay, walk back down the isle, don’t fall down, photographer asks us to stop and kiss, we do, more walking, make it to the door, here to the cake to cut it before the people come in.

It was only then how much I realized Steven was shaking. He was all grins, though. We both probably looked pretty silly. We cut the cake, drank some milk in pewter goblets (that was the best milk), and we cut the groom’s cake as well. Then upstairs to where there was a bit of food for us so we’d be able to get in some bites. Best stuffed mushrooms ever, but I could barely eat. Back down to talk with all the people. Lot of talking, lot of hugging, lot of laughing with our friends. Willis gave us pens and pencils (yes!), and Rhapsody in Blue was blasting. Before I know it they’re telling us we need to throw the bouquet and stuff cause it’s time to leave. But I just got here!

I was bound and determined to get that bouquet to Cathy. At first I was going to do what Mom did, and just throw it to her face forward, so I could aim. The photographer suggested I just fake throw it then turn around and hand it to her, and I said, “Great!” So that’s what I did. Sorry girls, I’m weird.

Funniest moment of the wedding: I didn’t have a garter belt, so I suggested to Steven to throw his boutenniere (sp?) for the guys. Ken made a comment about he better throw it or he’ll kick his ass. So Steven threw it, all the guys jumped up and sailed toward it, and next thing I know, Jason is in front of everybody, everybody’s falling, WHAM! At least four people are down on the floor, then Jason emerges victorious. I laughed as hard as my dress would allow. Poor little Taylor was at the bottom of that pile, but I saw him walking later, so I think he’s okay. I cannot wait to see that picture.

Then time to go, we run out and everyone throws rose petals at us as we head toward the car. I remember getting a rose petal out from my bosom, hahahah. In the car, off we go, dress everywhere.

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I’ll leave y’all with that for right now. Tomorrow: Charleston. (I still think it looks better as ‘Charlestown.’)

A Regret

It’s Christmastime, and the mistletoe is lurking about. A lot of us have fond memories of kisses under the mistletoe. Whether by a friend, a lover, a perfect stranger, or even your cat, you remember that moment. They’re different, they’re special.

The kiss that I remember most was, in fact, one that I didn’t give. And it’s the one I most regret. When I was ten, our teacher had the bright idea of hanging some mistletoe underneath the doorway into the classroom. We all avoided it like the noxious weed it was, staying away from the center of the doorway, just as you would expect typical cootie-infested children to behave.

Then the last day of class came before we were to go home for the holidays, and all of us students were lined up inside the door to leave for the buses, just waiting for the bell to ring. I was at the front of the line, near the doorway, with some of my friends. We were being silly, daring each other to get under the door where the mistletoe dangled overhead. Then, contrary to typical ‘Carrie’ fashion, I grew a pair of balls all of a sudden and moved to stand underneath it.

“Oooooh,” go the other 5th graders.

Then Scott, who I had a slight crush on at the time, proceeds to come up and stand under the mistletoe as well. I still can see the image in my mind plain as day: he’s a bit taller than me, all grins, arching back his neck to make sure he was right under the plant.

I almost did it. I just about leaned over to give a peck on that neck of his. Almost, almost, almost. But I hesitated, just one moment.

Then the bell rang, and we all forgot about that stupid green weed as we rushed to the buses. Even I was glad to be let off the hook.

A month later, Scott was dead. Killed in a plane crash. I was away for the weekend, and didn’t even know about it until after the funeral took place. I was back in class, there was an empty seat beside me, and I was one kiss short of a happy memory.

And now it’s thirteen years later, and I still find myself thinking about that moment, one of the few regrets in my life. But what can I do, that moment can’t rewrite itself. It can, however, remind me that moments like those are fleeting, you never know how such a small little thing can become so important later. At least I learned something out of it. Sneak all the little kisses you can get.

Last Post For A While; Savor It Slowly

I think this’ll be the last chance I get to write something before the Milestone Weekend commences, so here I am. I have found a sliver of free time in between the music compiation task and laundry. Eureka!

Oh, if you could only see Renton right now. He is all stretched out on the Elf Bed, eyes shut and looking incredibly peaceful. At first glance you’d think he was dead, the way he is laying. Another oddity about him is his choice of sitting and sleeping positions. It makes for amusing photos.

I’ve no idea why, but I feel so . . . peaceful. One would think I was running around into walls for all the anxiety that should be on my shoulders, but no, I’m sitting calmly, listening to the reception music CDs for potential mistakes and musing over a sleeping Renton. Where are the nerves, the last-minute glitches, the lack of appetite?? Not that I’m complaining, mind. Well, it would be nice not to have an appetite for a while, but other than that, all is well. Which can make one nervous in and of itself, cause it could very well mean that I’m missing something; I’m not properly nervous enough. But then I remember the immortal words from the Matrix, who took it from some other philosopher before that: ignorance is bliss.

But why would I think that, that’s crazy, don’t I want to make sure every little insignificant detail is all worked out three times over, so I can be happy and “my day” won’t be ruined? Hmm, yeah, I don’t wanna worry about all that stuff. As long as I’m there, Steven’s there, I’m clothed, and there’s a dude there to marry us, I’m content. Flabbergasted, but content.

Aaaack, now how come this blue wrapping paper doesn’t exactly match the bridesmaid’s dresses?!?!

*I did set up an entry to post on the 23rd, though I should still be in Charleston. Oh, I am such a crafty Carrie! Don’t freak out, I was a bit melancholy when I wrote it.

You Sure That’s A Cat?

I’ve mentioned it before, but Renton is an odd cat, weird beyond all reason. Where does one start with this cat? He’s just nuts. Last weekend, we discovered a new layer to his nuttiness. Renton (get ready for this one) loves oranges. Oranges! Acidic, oddly-textured, squirt-in-your-eye oranges, and he can’t get enough of them.

Cathy, who likes the juice but not the rest of the orange, sucked on one like a vampire this weekend, then offered the pulpy remnants to Renton the Curious, who immediately took a liking to them. He chewed and he chomped, licked and nuzzled; he was in orange heaven. I think he ate three oranges that weekend, and he had another last night.

The best thing about this is it keeps him busy for hours. Just lay an orange half on the floor, and he is quietly immersed for a long time. It keeps him from bouncing all over every stick of furniture in the apartment at least.

________________________

I had a weird dream last night. I was at my parents’ house in Alabaster, getting ready for the wedding, and my grandfather, Papa, comes in. Well, we’re all a-flutter because we thought he was dead. So happy to see him. I asked him if he’ll be able to come to my wedding, and he said, “No, baby, I’ve got to tend to my lady friend. But I know you will be gorgeous, and you’re going to have a lot of fun.”

And he gave me a hug and a greeting card, then he left. I wanted to read the card, but I woke up before I could. Damn that alarm clock.

I’ve had wedding dreams before, but that was one of the more interesting. Hopefully after Saturday, those dreams will stop, and I can quit worrying about Halloween-themed weddings, forgetting to memorize my vows, and leaving the rings up in Fort Payne. Glad to say I’ve taken care of all of that.

Hard to think that in just a short week from now, Steven and I will be in Charleston, walking amongst the old buildings and smelling the sea air of the Atlantic, which I’ve never been in before. Flown over, yes, but never have run my hands through it. Excitement! I’ve got a lot to do before that next Tuesday rolls around, though. Graduations, weddings, putting young Renton in a kennel. He is going to be so mad at me. Yeah, that Atlantic seems far off.

Like A Chicken Caught In Headlights

As I was driving down to Birmingham today, I passed by some interesting roadkill. Not to say that roadkill in and of itself is unusual in Alabama; in fact, first I passed by a roadkilled deer, which is quite the norm. The interesting roadkill I saw was a chicken. Now I don’t know about other parts of the world, but down here, we’ve no Chickens of the Wild Forests roaming about the South. I’ve no idea how it got to the interstate in the first place. So the question is, why did the chicken cross the road? I don’t know, but he only made it halfway.