Category: cranky

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Today, I learned something about how to conduct my life from a most unlikely source.

Real, powerful lessons I look forward to applying as soon as possible.

So this afternoon, I had the honor privilege task of taking The Feline to the vet. She’s having ongoing ear troubles, so back we went to see the same guy who cut the tumor off her little nose last year.

Needless to say, not really her most favorite person.

But our vet is the owner of nine (yes, nine) of his own cats. He’s got a real firm but friendly touch with my cat who prefers it if you’d never actually *touch* her.

As I wrassled that pet down so the good doctor could examine her, I watched how the feline worked.

First, she simply tried to walk away. Vigorously.

When that didn’t work, she began this low-in-the-throat growl. Very menacing. In fact, I’ve never heard her use this growl on anyone BUT the vet. He’s a very kind man, really, and no one else can cause my normally bulletproof pet to make that sound.

So with the long growls and face-finger* looks, we were put on notice.

Next step was to use her paw to push the vet’s hand away. Firmly. No claws, no biting, just firmly shoving with her paw flat against the palm of his hand with all she had.

Finally, when the doctor persisted in looking in her ears, and after trying walking away, growling, and pushing, The Feline went to code red.

Meaning: The cat freaked the f-word out.

The vet, not a petite man by any account, threw hands up in the air, backed right off, and looked a little skeered, actually.

Twelve point one pounds of fury.

Oh yes.

She never had to get violent. No blood was drawn. I think she might have peed the tiniest bit, but not enough to make a mess.

But let me tell you, that animal was no longer messed with. Nope. We both let her be.

In fact, the meaner she got, the kinder the vet became. He started out calling her “big girl” in reference to her heft. (As a “big girl” myself, I was sort of offended on behalf of my pet!)

By the end of the visit, he was calling her “little one” and practically cooing to her in Peruvian.

See, this is good. The smallest, most vulnerable one in the room got her way.

I can learn from this!

First, if you don’t like it, walk away.

If that doesn’t work, get vocal. Make your displeasure known in a firm but not offensive way.

It that doesn’t work, be firmer. Don’t be afraid to physically push the trouble away. No need to be violent, just be direct.

And if you really, truly have to, freak out! Including a little pee, but only if really necessary.

Once the trouble is over, give everyone a face-finger, walk away with tail held high, and loudly demand food the moment you set paws in safe territory.

I can’t wait to try this at my next mammo visit!

Look at her now…all sweetness and light….hmph!

*i.e. a dirty look. As in, giving the finger, but using your face.

Today, more than ever…

…I am convinced that the members of the human race are all nothing more than a truckload of clucking chickens wandering around the big cosmic coop.

Seriously.

Ok, so, backstory:

Over the Labor Day weekend, the people constructing a new eastern span of the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge closed the bridge to traffic. During this closure, they removed one section of the lower deck of the bridge, and placed a temporary section in place to divert traffic and allow vital work to be completed.

This made big news all over the Bay Area. It was much ado about “The S Curve”

Ba-kah! An S curve!

So when the bridge re-opened to traffic the following week, all the traffic reporters reminded commuters that people would be getting used to the new S curve, so allow extra time.

Ok, fine. Right? It’s a new thing, we all get used to it and move on.

Oh but nooooooo.

No, today, I had a rare occasion to have to cross the Bay Bridge. (stop shuddering, my dear mother!)

So, first of all, the approach going in an eastern direction on a good day is a cluster of merges that has always made me nutty.

Fine, it is what it is.

Then there had been an accident an hour earlier that had still left traffic snarled. Fine.

But oh…the best part. Once traffic was flowing along, I came through the tunnel that goes through Treasure Island, and then I was confronted with…DA DA DUUUUM…

The S Curve.

And people hit the brakes! Oh did they hit the brakes.

Fer crimeny’s sakes, people! It isn’t a frappin’ Z curve! It is quite easy to navigate. You follow those fabulous little white lines they paint on the ground. You turn your steering wheel gently one way, and then gently the other way. This is not a step on the brake-able road hazard!

My god. The freak out. The pandemonium! The utter ba-kah!

The Bay Bridge carries some 270,000 cars every day. And this change was implemented TWO WEEKS AGO!

But nooooooo.

Ba-kah!

*sigh*

This, along with people on the southbound highway slowing down to look at an accident that occurred on the northbound side, you know, OVER that heavy concrete barrier?

Bah. Kah.

Fine. I’ll just peck at my grain and shake my tailfeathers and call it a day.

I. Am. Cranky.

Recycled Conversations

So the conversation goes like this:

“Hey, do we have any WD-40?”

“Yeah, I think so, why?”

“Where would it be? I want to fix the squeak in that [curse word] bathroom door.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s probably in that same cabinet where we keep the toolbox.”

“Ah, ok.” sounds of digging around “Found it!”

sounds of more cursing, spraying, door swinging back and forth

Yeah, see, this conversation in a similar form took place on more than occasion between my mom and dad.

The ol’ man was hell on squeaks, rattles, and turning off lights when you left a room.

And he was all about the WD-40.

The conversation above? Took place in my home this past weekend.

Only, it was me cursing at the bathroom door, maniacal look on my face as I eliminated the squeak.

So why again is it as you age, you become your parents?

And why again am I becoming my father?

When I start wearing Sears brand jeans and listening to Big Band music, you all have my permission to take me down, Mutual of Omaha-style.

Damn bathroom door is pretty quiet now, though.

As the world keeps tilting and turning

And there is nothing you or I can do about it.

Today heralds the incoming month of September.

Labor Day, the “official” end of summer, is nigh.

And, if you are perceptive, over the next days, you can sense a change in the atmosphere. The earth has moved in her orbit a tiny bit, and the angle of the rays from the sun are a little less direct, a bit less overhead, more muted.

The days get moment by moment shorter.

When the breeze blows by on a warm day, you catch the faintest bit of chill in the air. Almost imperceptible, but it is there.

And Fall starts to move in, unpack its red and gold and yellow hued bags, and set up residence.

September is the month of still summer warm days but cooler nights. Of State Fairs and rodeos and roasting chiles. In the Bay Area, the crab fishermen start patching nets and negotiating rates, getting ready for the Fall harvest.

An extra blanket may find its way onto my bed. The Feline will sleep a little closer to her humans.

There is talk of Halloween in the air. “What are you going to be” and bags of miniature chocolate bars for sale.

Soon pumpkins will be lit with candles and ghouls will rule the night.

But today, oh today. Today is still baseball and flip flops and cinnamon flavored churros. In small towns, talk of “will that steer take the blue ribbon this year” and kids are back in school and the public pools grow quieter.

The day is still warm and I still grip, and grip *hard*, to the last, butter slippery straws of summer.

Oh so much happier!

Ok, confessional time. Yes, I’m owning it here, publicly, on my blog.

Here we go

Due to the immense amount of food they provide here at my job, cookies, cakes, lots of candy, full lunches, parties, celebrations, the whole nine yards….

I *might* have maybe, sort of, kind of….gained some weight.

I know. *gasp*

Not a lot. But enough to make most of the clothes in my closet feel tight.

So, I do that thing that women do, “Oh, I’ll lose this. I don’t need to buy new clothes! I’d just buy them and have to give them away, what a waste of money!”

What do I do? I wear the few items that fit over and over. And wear the tight things and sit at my desk with a wince as I get marks on my body from the clothes.

So, I just…I don’t know…gave up. I started dressing like crap. If you know me, you know clothes and style matter to me. So this is REALLY giving up.

I’m not proud of it.

Well, as fate will do, I had a *very* important meeting today, one where I needed to be on my game. And I needed to dress in a businesslike way.

In preparation, I tried on all my current dress pants. Yeah. No luck. Ok, I could get them on and zipped, but they were tight and immediately began pressing into my waist.

This isn’t humorous.

With fear in my heart, a couple days ago, I took to the mall, shopping discount outlets looking for *something* I could make work. Something I could wear and look professional and still be comfortable.

Guys, you have to know. To a woman…shopping for pants is the seventh level of hell. I don’t know why, it just is. Only slightly more appealing than shopping for a swimsuit.

The mall I visited is all broke down and busted (like many malls are these days) and it was a very hot day in the Bay Area. The entire mall had NO air conditioning, so shopping for pants (ugh!) with a sheen of sweat on your brow is not amusing. May I reiterate: NOT!

And being the cheap ass that I am, I wanted something at a low cost.

So. I found a couple things. The quality was only so-so. I wasn’t overjoyed with the items, but ok. I’d have something to wear.

I was depressed.

Then, yesterday I had an inspired idea. There is a store I used to shop at quite a bit, but then drifted away from. Their stuff is good, stylish, but often a little pricey. Their last couple of lines were not attractive at all, so I had moved on.

But I remembered that they usually stock a good range of sizes.

Yesterday after work, I went to this store. And I almost cried. In addition to air conditioning, they had gotten in all their new Fall line and much of it was TOTALLY my style. And sizes! Oh the size choices. I tried on some stuff that was too big! Some too small, but they had the next size.

And their prices were not that bad, actually. Reasonable. They’ve clearly made a shift to help with the economy.

So I stocked UP. I mean, I went a little nuts. I bought good quality clothes that fit and make me feel *good*. I bought a whole new wardrobe!

I walked out smiling. Today I’m wearing one of the new outfits and I am walking so much taller. My pants fit! They don’t bind. My waistline has been spared for the day. My whole outlook has vastly improved.

Ladies! Don’t give in to stuff that cuts and binds! Wear clothes that fit and feel good!

(and yes, I’m cutting back on the feed rations and exercising. Lifelong battle.)