KatRat the Rat Slayer

My beautiful baby girl is such a sweetie. She's teeny and petite and small and damn, she's a bad ass!

I'm sure you've heard the saying "small but mighty", well that's my girl. She doesn't take much crap off of anyone and she'll get right up in a person's grill if she thinks she's not being taken seriously or heard.

I mentioned in my last post that there's a man eating, flesh ripping, bloodthirsty rat living in my back yard and yesterday my little Miss Dy-no-mite saw it. She went totally spider monkey over it. She started screaming about needing a gun mucho-pronto. I'm sure the neighbors heard her yelling for ammo.

She wanted a gun and she wanted it fast! She didn't care what kind. She probably would have used the one she's holding in the picture above if it didn't have such a large "boom" and we wouldn't get arrested for shooting a firearm in the city. An assault rifle no less.

I pulled out my trusty Daisy BB gun and gave it to her but her hands were shaking so much with the anticipation of the kill, someone else had to get it ready to shoot! I could almost hear her muttering "Go ahead...make my day." She wanted to blow that rat off the face of the earth!!! Once the gun was ready, she took aim and let 'er rip. One shot...dead rat. But my girl wasn't satisfied. She shot it again.

I was a little bit scared because if you could have seen the glint in her eyes and the look on her face you would agree that she was just a bit too excited. She was in a state of muerto loco. My sweet little girly girl did something I couldn't bring myself to do. Even though rats are disgusting and carry disease and all that jazz, I couldn't bring myself to shoot one. But my little bad ass kidlet did! That's going to be her name for a few days. Miss Muerto Loco. I couldn't be prouder.

Yuck, a RAT!

I was in the back yard running the weed eater a day or so ago, when I noticed movement in the grass. Upon closer inspection I discovered that it was a RAT!

I'm sure it was a cute rat but That's not what I saw.

I saw a horrible, bloodthirsty scary rat!

One that was fiendish and who wanted to rip off my face with it's teeth.

In reality the rat was probably like "what?" when it saw me but I didn't take it that way.

I'm not a mean person and I don't like killing things (except for mosquito's and flies and maybe a couple of million ants) so I didn't necessarily want to murder the rat with my weed eater, I just wanted it to pack it's bags and go away. To Outer Mongolia or somewhere like that.

After I finished hopping around and rubbing myself raw from the heebie jeebies I went into the house and got all 3 cats so they could convince the rat to move away.

One cat is too chicken to do anything with a rat. Or bird, or flea. She's Pork Chop.

Another cat is an aspiring hunter but she's getting a bit too fat and a little long in the tooth for safaris.

Little kitten Noodle would like to hunt but she's still a bit uncoordinated and only slightly larger than the rat.

And, Noodle was getting a sip of water out of my fish pond and fell in so she couldn't be bothered with slaying vermin. She had to perfect her back stroke. And keep from being eaten by the 6 goldfish. She had major trauma, people.

Once I bring Lucille the dog back from the little house in the woods, I'm going to put her on the scent of the rat and see how she does in the rat relocation business. I feel badly for traumatizing a little critter that only wants to survive (and chew wires and destroy pieces of my home and have 10,000 babies) but I can't have it living with me. We have enough pets thankyouverymuch.

180 Pounds Won't Slide

On a recent Friday evening I was enjoying a couple of cocktails (feeling happy, happy, happy) when I came up with the bright idea to drag out the trusty slip n slide. I used to enjoy hours of fun on the thing when I was a kid (and about 100 pounds lighter), but I didn't enjoy it so much this time.

In order to have some watery fun I first had to cajole one of the kidlets to pick up the poopie piles in the yard, then I had to run the mower because the grass looked like a jungle. Once the yard was nice and primed, we stretched that puppy out and let the water flow. Everything was working nicely for a few minutes until the pool at the end of the slide popped and the gentle sprinkles that keep the slide wet went to a slow dribble. I fixed that problem the redneck way by simply spraying the slide with the squirty hose.

My girls and their respective beaus were a little tentative to slip and slide so I made the first run. I can't run any more so I did my best to speed walk up to the mat and flung myself like a floundering hippo down for what I hoped would be a fun filled slidey ride. Silly me. Fat-so me. I didn't slide, I landed and came to an abrupt dead stop. I guess a slip n slide isn't designed for a 180 pound, 49+++ year old lady.

The kids slipped and slid and had a high-ho time with no abrupt stops at all. I tried once more and face planted once again. That was the end of my fun. 

I resigned myself to the fact that 1) I was too heavy to slide and 2) my multi-hundred-thousand dollar bionic back and neck could not withstand those kind of abrupt stops. I had fun anyway because I controlled the hose which meant I got to squirt people. And things got even crazier once we started squirting dish soap on the slide to make it slipperier.

As you might notice in the pictures, we all wound up with grass everywhere and I do mean EEEEVVVVVERY WHEEEERREEEEEE. Grass and soap wound up in unholy places that could or could not have required a high pressure hose to dislodge. But sheesh was it fun. Cheap, soapy, grassy cocktail hour fun. 'Cuz that's how I roll, yo!

A Little Talk About Our Organs

There's a type of organ called a Hammond b3 which is an awesome instrument. It has a special speaker inside of it that rotates to make an awesome warbling sound.

The musician can alter the speed of the speaker to make the sounds change.

(I'm not sure why the picture keeps showing up sideways. I can't seem to make it stay upright. Sorry 'bout that)

Sometimes that thing really gets to spinning and man, does it sound good.

What does a Hammond b3 have to do with my organs you ask? Well, when I wake up in the morning my most defective organ - my brain pulls what I like to call "a Hammond." I want to sleep, I really do but my thoughts start running so quickly I can't! My brain goes into overdrive. It "Hammonds" me so much I have to get up. I can almost feel my brain spinning in my skull.

Here's a sampling of some of the thoughts I've had within a 15 minute period the other day:
Create a super cool awesome rock sculpture
Reconfigure my backyard pond to maximize the waterfall effect
Haul in dirt to achieve said pond re-do
Create something totally awesome with my bee wood
Fix the band saw so I can create said bee wood project
Retrieve welder so I can create a super cool sculpture
Use items in garage to create clarinet lamp
Get camera and take pictures of flowers
Mow the yard and trim the hedges
Fix the refrigerator
Scrub the bathtub
Take my girls to lunch
Have them help me create some kind of fantastical artwork
And that's not all. Those are just some of the things I can remember!

Now, the sad part is that while I wake up with tons of great ideas by the time I drag my sorry ass into action, I've blown off 3/4 of them.

I've got body-to-brain lag time of ohhhhhh........about 45 minutes. I might fly out of the bed and rush to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee but then things slow down. I might turn on the telly to watch the news while I sip my coffee and usually I find myself sliding down onto the cushions until I'm lying down again. Then I have to watch some gardening shows to spark my yard creativity. Most times the cat will join me on the sofa which leads to a 1/2 hour of playing and before I know it, the morning is fading to noon.

This creative thought process and gradual deflation occurs on most days. Sometimes I write down my ideas so I can revisit them some day when I'm actually up and looking for something to do. Other times they just fade away into the empty nooks and crannies in my brain. But boy, do I have some great ideas! Maybe one of these days I'll get around to carrying them out.

My date with the insurance adjustor

Apparently I have a horrible speech disorder. Whenever I get nervous I develop a horrendous case of Speech Vomitosis Mouth. I blabber uncontrollably about nothing and display a number of nervous tics. Usually, my eye (or eyes) will water which make me paranoid that my makeup is running in black rivers down my face. My moistening lipstick suddenly dries up and my lips stick together. I worry that I have a huge glob of lipstick on my teeth so I run my tongue across my teeth every 15 seconds. I itch all over which means I scratch as if I have 10,000 fleas on me. Oh yeah, and I sweat. I can feel trickles of sweat run down my sides as my underarms unleash a perspiration assault. As you can probably tell, I'm a real mess when I'm nervous.

Not long ago I was involved in a traffic accident. I was bumped from behind by a teeny tiny Asian lady driving a Honda Accord. Her car was not damaged and my car got a very small scratch but I thought everything was fine until I told Manchild about it. He insisted that I have the car checked out at a body shop to make sure that the squishers behind the bumper were OK. By the way, "squishers" is an official auto body term. You know, the things that absorb the shock when you're hit from behind.

Anyway, after a month of procrastinating I finally called the insurance company so I could get my car checked out. A very nice man met me at my place of employment and performed a field check on my cars hiney. And when he showed up, all of my tics and vomitosis of the mouth went into overdrive.

I felt guilty for even making such a big deal over a teeny little scratch so the first thing I told the poor guy was that I had called him at the insistence of my husband. I then proceeded to tell him how there was concern that the squishers had been damaged but that in my unprofessional opinion, there was nothing to worry about. Then I apologized about 3,000 times for having him out to look at a teeny scratch and a bunch of nothingness. Then I told him that I wanted to keep my car forever because it was a collectors item and that there were only 1,650 of that particular car made in the entire United States. And I told him that in the entire metroplex, there was only 1 other car like mine. And then I told him that it had a super duper big HEMI engine and that it'd really get up and go when I wanted it to. And I told him 285 other inconsequential facts while he was trying to work.

All the time that I was telling him everything, my eye was watering like crazy and the inner portion of my right nostril was itching so I kept dabbing at tears and scratching inside my nose. Of course, my lips were stuck together and I licked of an entire layer of enamel off of my teeth trying to get the imaginary lipstick off of them. When the first rivulet of sweat began it's downward journey I immediately began squeezing my arms against my sides in a futile attempt to stop the flow. Then I started obsessing that I stank because I was nervous sweating so I kept inching away from the guy but I had to move closer again because I couldn't hear what he was saying. I was doing the classic "dab the eye, pick the nose, lick the teeth, pry the dry lips apart, squeeze the arms against the body" bob and weave. I am positively sure that the man thought I was tweaking on something.

The guy finally finished his inspection and got the hell away from me as fast as humanly possible told me that he'd send me a report and a check and that was it - it was all over. I wobbled back into the office with my arms swinging (trying to dry out the sweat). My lips weren't stuck together any more, I knew for a fact that I didn't have lipstick on my teeth, my eye wasn't watering, the itch in my nose went away and I didn't say a single word to anyone as I made my way back to my desk. What - the - HELL - people????????? It's official. I'm certifiably 100% psycho and I look like a tweaker when I'm nervous. I wonder how the inspector dude is doing. I wonder if he started itching because I was scratching and fidgeting so much.

Focus Group

I’m currently involved in a focus group at the company where I work. Getting my supplies for the study was like celebrating my birthday! I got all kinds of stuff. I work in the cosmetics industry so the things I will be testing will hopefully make me appear on the outside to be the glamazon that I am on the inside. 

For the first day of the study I followed the directions to a “t” and applied every single product on my list. I started with my own special kind of facial cleanse that most probably removed every stray germ, loose skin cell and atom of dirt that ever existed on my face by using a bath puffy and Dial soap. I was squeaky clean. I was instructed to apply 3 different moisturizers, which I did even though my face is “moist” enough to polish hundred old wood to a sheen. Next, I was instructed to apply two different powders, which seems sort of backwards to me since I had just applied moisturizer. I followed all of that up with liquid foundation! What the heck??? I was given many color choices of makeup to use so I went to town slathering and dusting, combing and spritzing. 

When everything was all said and done I took a look at myself and about fell over, because I looked so…made up. I looked like a grown up lady! I asked Manchild if it looked like I was wearing 10,000 lbs. of makeup and he didn’t think I did. But I felt like if I scraped my fingernail across my face, all that makeup and powder and moisturizer would just ball up under my nail. I’d be left with a trench in my face where I had scraped away all of the stuff I had just applied.

My method of facial care consists of squirting a dollop of whatever soap is handy onto one of those plastic body scrubbers (or a back brush) and scrubbing the hell out of my skin. That’s it! Once in a blue moon I might apply moisturizer afterwards if there’s any handy. It might be body lotion or heavy cream for cracked heels but hey, it’s moist. So, to use products specifically designated for the care of delicate facial skin is a totally new thing to me. I’m wondering if my face will erupt after receiving delicate products instead of lye soap and 80 grit sandpaper-tough scrubbies. I guess I’ll find out.

 A few hours later I was outside where it was hot and I developed such a sheen, I felt the need to dab my face with a paper towel. When I pulled the towel away it was ORANGE! All that moisturizer and makeup blended together to make a goopy mess. I looked in the mirror and I didn’t look all gloopy but man, that paper towel told a different story.

 Tonight I’ll use all of the fancy cleaning products I was given and see how long it takes to wash away 4 layers of product. I’m going to make the house really quiet to see if I can hear my face suck in oxygen after being smothered for so long. I bet I’ll hear it breathe a sigh of relief!

 I have to do the study for 28 days so I’m really curious to see if all the potions and elixirs fade away my red blotchy skin and if the little wrinkles and over sized pores diminish. The makeup is just a bonus. I can play with that stuff all day long – even if I don’t usually wear as much as the study calls for. If anything, I’ll have some great supplies for Halloween.

 Here’s my “before” picture. I’ll post another in about a month and yall can tell me if there’s any change. Let’s hope I look 20 years younger and fabulously gorgeous.

Photo by Bob Scott

Drawing in the wet concrete

There’s been a lot of road construction going on where my house is located. The city is working on the sewer pipes so they’re digging up our yards and the street. As different sections of the pipe are fixed the crew pours concrete to patch the street then they put up barriers so the stuff can cure without being run over by cars.

I’ve watched the road crew work their way down my street for 2 weeks. When they finally got in front of my house I did what any good Texas girl would do. I made a big pitcher of iced tea and took it out to the guys. It was hot and they looked thirsty so I tried to help out. They didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Spanish but we managed to communicate enough for them to drink the entire pitcher of tea. Way to go Suzy Homemaker!

At the end of the day after the concrete was poured and the workers had left I was overcome with the desire to make my mark for the entire world to see. I HAD to draw in that wet concrete! The kidlets got into the spirit and we all created masterpieces. We were having a great time and then Manchild arrived home. Being a lawman, he proceeded to tell us that what we were doing was a crime. We could be prosecuted for defacing public property! Whoops!

We grilled Mr. Lawman with the prospects of actually being charged or arrested or tossed into the Klink for drawing priceless works of art in wet concrete that the city owned. After we thought we were fairly safe from spending the rest of our lives in jail we spent a few minutes admiring our handiwork then we went inside the house for dinner. Later, we went back outside to look at our work again only to discover that the road crew had returned and they had “erased” all of our artwork! And then they placed a tarp over the concrete to protect it from the elements so we couldn’t draw in it again.

I guess we could have removed the tarp and drawn some more but then again, I’m sure it was obvious that we were the ones who had drawn in the concrete and the road crew didn’t ring the doorbell and scold us so maybe we dodged a bullet on that one. I could be writing my blog from the big house in solitary confinement or something. Luckily, I’m on my comfy couch with a dog who has it’s nose buried in my side, sipping a cold beer. That’s much better than jail. I guess I’ll just have to create my artwork somewhere else. Like on the side of a bus or a building or an airplane.

Band-Aids and Boobies

Band-Aids have so many wonderful uses. They’re not just for covering a scrape or cut. They can help ease the discomfort of a rubbing pair of shoes, and they can also make loose shoes fit a little better by filling in the gaps. Forgot your bra? Use Band-Aids to tame your twins. In a super tight pinch, you can use them as adhesive in place of a hem in your clothing. Kids love Band-Aids. They wear them on imaginary boo-boos or simply for fun.

One morning I chose my clothes to wear to work and thought I looked pretty OK but when I arrived at the office (which is kept at a brisk 72 degrees) I noticed that my lightly padded bra was NOT doing the trick at keeping my girls under cover so to speak. My friends don’t call me Radar for nothing! I’ve got the most sensitive girls on the planet and even if it’s 1,000 degrees outside, if there’s a slight breeze the twins will perk right up and tell everyone that there was a drop in temperature. I guess I could wear one of these beauties but I think they’d chafe. Or rust.

Since I work at a conservative company I didn’t think it was a good idea to move throughout the office with my high beams on all day so I had to find a solution speedy quick. I turned to the medicine cabinet and found some heavy duty cloth, super strength and mega adhesive Band-Aids. With a smash and a slap, presto-change-o I was smooth sailing. I didn’t have to move about with my arms crossed over my chest looking pensive any more. I didn’t have to worry about looking like Rocket Girl. I could simply be me as long as the adhesive held.