Results of the "Chicken/Road" Contest

The wonderful Anna Leffler of   http://lifejustkeepsgettingweirder.blogspot.com/

has published the results of her "contest for answers to the  question, "Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road"?

Actually I misinterpreted things a bit....it was not that kind of contest.....no winners....it was more like a challenge......... so if you were expecting me to win, please don't be disappointed:   I am definitely not disappointed....I  would never have produced my own little masterpiece were it not for Anna and her challenge and I am infinitely pleased with myself over my entry. 

I just read all the wonderful,,,yea even incredible......entries (mine included) and was impressed and tickled beyond belief.  All I can say is that we bloggers  are definitely of a superior race.

Here is the link to Anna Leflers blog with  all the entries:

http://lifejustkeepsgettingweirder.blogspot.com/2011/01/big-chicken-link-reveal.html



and below is what was my humble offering.....

ENJOY !

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Hmmmm.........Why DID the chicken cross the road?  

The question appears to be deceptively simple but is actually enormously complex
and could have a myriad of causes not the least of which might be SEX.

So now we must ask whether the chicken was a rooster or a hen
Because everyone knows that the male and female of the species are apt to behave very differently when,

For one reason or another, their libido is aroused or shall we say tickled,
and also we have to determine whether or not the bird in question might have been even slightly pickled;

Because liquor can make even the most straight laced and demure little hen into an lascivious hussy        

who would not be feeling the least bit fussy,

And might go far out of her way
for what is vulgarly known as a roll in the hay.

While everyone knows that no self respecting rooster
is apt to need any booze as a booster.

When sighting a hen
With a yen

Across the road........

So ends Reason #1 of my Ode.

  (with love and thanks to Ogden Nash)

 

Photo Day

Hello, hello, hello, my darlings.  Just checking in with a word or two and, hopefully, a pic or two.

My beloved cousin, Jen, who has schlepped down from Portland many times over the past year to save my life in one way or another is here once again to help me get organized (!).  One of the things on our lists was trying to download a batch of fabulous photos of my raccoons so I can thrill you with some of them.  This is not the moment for a long story so I will merely say that we had both failed miserably with this task the last time she was here.....you could call it a standoff between the download software and us.......that means the software won and refused to function leaving me on the verge of trekking to the store and having someone download the pics onto a disk for me.  Magically, however, she got it to working last nite and I can now attempt to upload a few for your enjoyment.

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille

Get in line.

Are ya'  lookin' at ME?

In the next  2 we see Monsieur Raccoon choosing his next delectable morsel of kitty kibble from the bowl while his sibling has a drink.

That is all you get for now.......I promise to post more later.  Right now Jen and I must rush off to Petco and pick up Pink mesh harness for the new kitty......she ain't going out without having me on the other end of the string,

I Can't Believe It----I Have Entered a Blog Contest

The wonderful Anna Leffler of  

http://lifejustkeepsgettingweirder.blogspot.com/

has proposed a contest with the challenge being the best answer to the ever intriguing question, "Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road"?

 Don't ask me why this made me catch fire, but ignite me it did and I simply had to tap out an entry with my answer.  Frankly no one will be more puzzled by my choice of answers than I am and, similarly, no one will be more surprised than I am at the form in which I chose to present my entry.

This was truly one of those cases in which the Muse took over the controls and the seized the use of my fingers and keyboard and only let me see what I had written after it was finished.  This has happened to me a number of times in my writing "career" and it never ceases to amaze and delight me.  Consequently, I was thrilled and delighted with my entry and wish I could say that the fully conscious "I"  had written it.  However, if I win I will  not hesitate to take full credit for it.

I am not going to reveal my entry until after the contest closes on Friday sometime, but I encourage all of you brilliant, charming and amusing folks to go to the above link and enter the contest too.  I welcome competition.  (I think that is a bare-faced lie, but I want Anna's contest to be a smashing success......... she deserves it.) so get out of here at once (after you leave a comment, of course) and go compete!

Adventures of the Other Kind

I learned a very interesting and sobering thing today......Life's adventures are not all fun and games........beside the joyous, memorable, inspiring, frothy and glittery ones there can be those offering dark challenges  and involving a lot of  pain and suffering.  Yet,  these episodes which somberly decorate the landscape of our life's path ARE adventures too.......just of a different kind.   And, of course, if you have been hanging around me for any length of time you know that I am going to add the fact that they always have the most precious  lessons attached, whether we are ready to learn them or not.

Today's lesson:  NO GOOD DEED GOES  UNPUNISHED !

(I thought I already knew that......sob......how many more times, Lois?)
                                                                           

For instance, many of you may be aware that I recently defied my sensible side (I don't know about  you other Astro signs, but Gemini's have 2 opposing halves, one may be  sweet, civilized and sensible while the other is raucous, uncouth, unmanageable, occasionally dangerous to one's self and others  and quite obviously Batshit Crazy (thanks, Mary Moon)........well, as I was saying, one day 2 weeks ago when I wasn't paying attention I seem to have  allowed myself to adopt  this here new homeless, needy kitty.  Suffice it to say, the very last thing a tottering,schlepedicka  old Cat Lady needs, really, is another cat.   Never mind......that logic belongs in the world of sanity wherein I obviously no longer dwell.

Having spent the past 2 weeks rushing around closing some cats into some rooms while encouraging other cats into different rooms.......then reversing the procedure, juggling innumerable food dishes and kitty boxes into places they have never been  before and shouting useless commands like, "No, no, don't you spit at her!,  Stop growling you silly cat!. I'm telling you, she won't hurt you, why don't you believe me?  (and most importantly)  Lois, now is the perfect moment to commit yourself to the funny farm!?", I am merely a tattered remnant of my former self.

Not only do I find myself  tenderly hand feeding this weak and frail little creature as she lounges in my bed, but I have finally allowed myself to realize that, despite my current somewhat anemic finances, what is really needed here is a trip to the Vet.  And what THAT means, aside from the horror of ending up having to administer the dreaded pills and droppers of liquid meds, is my complete and utter mpoverishment.   Antibiotics, subcutaneous fluids, Xrays, Blood Tests, heat treatments, coldpacks and no doubt psychotherapy........... I see the remains of my vast fortune,which was somehow not totally decimated by all my previous cats, disappearing down the gullet of this little gray waif who, even as we speak, is no doubt waiting impatiently for me to appear and hold under her chin  her 8pm Smoothie  (Friskies' Mixed Grill blended with homemade chicken broth to just the right sipping/lapping consistency).

Lest you think that I exaggerate, I must tell you that I have just returned from Vet Visit #1 clutching the dreaded antibiotic and a receipt for a down payment on the National Debt.  Poor baby has an undetermined infection, a fever over 105 and  was badly dehydrated before receiving subcutaneous fluids and a shot of antibiotics.........................

Does anyone doubt that psychotherapy lurks very far behind?  The question is.......
for whom.....her or me?

Guess Who Is #1 in Guinness Book of Klutzes

It's no contest, really.  (You may THINK you are a bigger klutz than I am, but I don't really want to fight about it so please, just acknowledge my greatness in the klutz department and let's move on). 

I started honing my klutzy skills as a child, dropped out of the race for a number of middle years and now seem to be perfecting my technique in my decrepitude.  I am not bragging about this, you understand, just recognizing and accepting it.

As a child my claim to the title rested on simply falling down a lot,  often from standing on my own foot and then trying to pick up the bottom foot to walk, but also tripping over twigs, pebbles or cracks in the pavement.  When I grew  my great boobs my talents expanded to feats like catching my dress or shirt on the  protruding bolts  holding the ping pong table net in place, thereby rending asunder my garments with great regularity.    Until I learned to allow for the protrusions I hardly owned any clothing which had not been darned or otherwise mended from such encounters, much to my poor Mamma's grief and horror.   

Then when I lost 50 lbs. and stopped bumping into so many things the plague went into a state of remission, I guess.   I remained somewhat accident prone but things took on a much more sophisticated quality as I learned to use tools .......I think the epitome was reached when I managed to nail my finger to the picture frame I was building........lesson: never hold the piece of wood with your fingers behind the place where you are hitting the nail with the hammer.  

It is a small miracle that I survived all those years of using power tools and building stuff while still keeping all fingers and toes and minor limbs attached to my body.  God was good to me and my Guardian Angels must have worked overtime.  . However, after the past few days I think the plague is returning.  I have been behaving like my left foot is attached to my right leg and vice versa.  This is beyond klutzy.  A few days ago I was trying to put on a stretchy velcro knee brace and pulled so hard to stretch the flap that I pulled my foot off the chair it was resting on thereby knocking over the chair and myself in the process.  Only bruises, tenks gott, but very unsettling (no pun intended).

Before continuing I must explain that one of my many weird habits is to keep my purse (very large with 2 carrying straps) on the floor under the dining table where I live for a good part of the day since that is where the laptop resides.)  Consequently, I should at all times be very careful to ensure that it is tucked safely under the table without protruding enticingly to tempt disaster.  Well, of course, I don't, so there have been many awkward encounters, but none as great as last nite when I rose from my chair to let a cat in or out or fetch some delicacy from the kitchen or something and somehow managed to step into the jaws of the purse which then wrapped it's straps around my leg and anchored me to the floor on the left side.  Meanwhile, my right leg was still merrily making it's way to the other room.  Both dining chairs went over in this one and I found myself in my old familiar position of shame.....in a shambles and general state of disarray on the floor with several cats peering down at me with puzzled expressions.  Careful counting elicited the info that I still had all my body parts attached, no one was bleeding and nothing seemed to be broken, sprained or otherwise mangled.  Sigh.  

This is obviously very dangerous and must be solved at once.....migawd I could have fallen on a cat and killed it.  I had better go into the rubber room to ponder..........I love to solve problems, but this one may not be so easy..............


P.S. On another subject entirely:

To my new follower, Shirley, who made me faint with joy when she said she went back and read every one of my blogs (wow) your comment yesterday has no ID so I do not know how to thank you privately......therefore you must endure this public gratitude and/or embarrassment and humiliation......Thank you!


And, while I am on the subject......., to all my dear followers whose affection and loyalty I appreciate and treasure.........thank you , dear ones from the bottom of my heart....you light up my life!

Grocery List- Delicious Reading (?)

Having sunk to the depths of despair over my struggles to incorporate a new kitty into my household, I confided my agony and barren bleakness to my dear friend Anne in the UK.......I call her St. Anne of Devon......I have written a bit about her in the past.  She is the amazing personage who caters to a devoted (demanding) seagull named Spud, a  bird who ungraciously bangs on her window with his beak demanding  more cheddar and who sometimes meets her at the bus stop and follows her home probably uttering all sorts of unprintable comments and requests.


She, in her incredibly compassionate way tried to comfort me and paid me the greatest compliment I have received since my friend, Bob, assured me that "my worst was good enough".  After enduring my whining for half a page that I was unfit and unable to blog worth a damn, she kindly reassured me that my followers were so loyal and true (and implied that my talents were so vast) that folks would probably enjoy it if I simply wrote a Grocery List.

Well, let's just see about that!

It so happens that I have my list from yesterday's shopping excursion, so be prepared to be entertained by:

2 lbs. Turkey Pastrami - one of the staples of my freezer and frig meat tray.  I try to deceive myself into believing that this stuff, since it is supposedly made from turkey rather than beef and shows no visible fat, might not be so bad for one and might even be good for one.  (we do not count nitrates and preservatives, you understand.....I mean, let's not go overboard with this).......I know, for a fact, that it is certainly good for one fine sandwich when paired with some Dijon Mustard a slice of  Jarlsberg Swiss and a bit of sauerkraut all embraced by some real deli rye bread.

1 lb. Jarlsberg Swiss Cheese - (see above)  also divine on it own with simple lettuce and tomato on wheat, not to mention melted into Cheese Fondue with some garlic, white wine and a touch of nutmeg and crispy sourdough morsels for dipping..

1 lb. Black Forest Ham -  fine for sandwiches, Quesadillas and exquisite when used as a stuffing with above Jarlsburg rolled up into sinless  (should be skinless, but I love the idea of no sin) herb-rubbed chicken breasts and sauted in butter, white wine and lemon juice with a few mushrooms tossed in for the joy of it.

1 lb. Provolone Cheese -  good for so many things it is impossible to list 'em

5 pkgs. Nibblers Pretzels - Honey Mustard & Onion flavor and Garlic flavor for any moment when a food emergency strikes 24/7 and for munching while watching NCIS on TV featuring the Sexiest Man Alive, (Mark Harmon.....my secret crush.......and,pray tell me why the hell, after living it up for 83 years a person is not allowed to have a secret crush?......I ain't dead yet and if I were that smile would bring me back to life)

OK my dears, there is yourentertainment for today .......I am not sure if you have been amused but I'll bet I have managed to make some of you drool and salivate just a bit.  What the hell......hungry is an  OK feeling....take what you can get.  Go nosh something.  As my Great Grandma, Sarah, (or anybody's  Jewish Great Grandmother) would  probably say,  "Ess, ess, mine kindt"  (sp?)

And by  the way, out of deference to your delicate feelings I did not mention that the last thing on my shopping list was a package of Depends.......after all, I AM 83............and I tell it like it is......
.

Update: re "Here Pussy, Pussy, Pussy."....

Well, right off the top I can tell from your comments that I made a huge mistake in describing my search for the little cat using the call, "Here pussy, pussy, pussy". I apparently elicited lots of giggles with that one.   Actually, I have a number of different desperate calls that I use, but it seems the only socially  acceptable one must be ,"Here kitty, kitty, kitty" and I will remember that in the future.  (The rest contain words far more unacceptably than "pussy").   I guess I have been lucky so far that my plaintive shouts and pleas as I run up and down the alleys have only brought cats into my life and not, for instance, say Working Girls or Lesbian Vampires........

This will only be a short work.......I am still too exhausted from yesterday's adventures to mumble on at any great length..........for one thing, I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 6 am in order to deliver the patient to the hospital for hr spaying and had to wander all over the east Valley trying to find the place.  I had forgotten that it is still pre-dawn at 6 or 7 in the am and I  am nearly blind when it is dark.....am not supposed to drive after dark or before dawn.  but being so unfamiliar with that particular piece of the day I hadn't considered that problem  until I looked out and realized that I could  barely see my car in the driveway.

In addition, I had printed the map and directions off of the computer  and inspected the map carefully and thought I knew exactly how to get there. It was only after having to retrace my path several times without finding the street that I stopped and, with the help of my little flashlight and glasses, read the directions and found that the reason I couldn't find the effing  street Clybourne was because it actually was the well known and highly traveled Sherman Way which, unbeknownst to me,  somehow suddenly dead ended near the Burbank Airport,  zigged at right angles to the left and thereafter became Clybourne.  Sigh.  Who knew.

Anyway, I just want to report that after that  the sun came up and all went well.   I retrieved Kitty at 4pm, installed her in my bathroom with assorted beds, delicacies and kitty box and found her an hour later (having rejected all the beds) comfortably curled up in my lovely oval hand painted Talavera sink which cats seem to be unable to resist. OK with me......I did not have to bend down to hand feed her and my knees were VERY grateful.

Since then she seems totally content to lounge about in my small but cosy bathroom where I intend to keep her for a few more days while she heals.  She has learned to use the kitty box and has begun to eat on her own, tenks gott, so no new disasters.  I do not want to think about the day I will have to  try to bring her out of seclusion to have lunch with the girls...........no.......I definitely do not want to think about that tonite.

There is another chapter to this melodrama which I will relate at a future date, but , fear not, it has a happy ending  So good nite, my dears........I finally hope to get an anxiety-free nite's sleep.  And the same to all of you!

Get Ready Wall.....Here Comes My Head Again

Yes, yes......it's true ........I am back at that point in my existence where it has  become necessary for me to hit my head against the nearest wall 4 or 5 or half a dozen times.  Don't feel sorry for my head.......it deserves this treatment.  Hopefully it may knock some sense into the so-called brain that lives in there making all kinds of idiotic, ill-thought-out decisions which the rest of me then  has to deal with.    As Ollie used to say to Stan, "This is another fine mess you've gotten us into!".

I can see all of you reaching for the phone to call for the White Coats and the strait jacket.........don't bother, please.  I have not quite split into multiple personalities which talk to each other (although I have often overheard me saying to myself out loud, "If I were you, Lois, I would do such and such."  Sigh.  It is just that, despite endless promises to myself, I have once again become embroiled in another one of those Save the Poor Critter" melodramas

Of COURSE I know better.......  Hence the head-bashing punishment routine.  But no matter how much I know better that does not seem to save me.  So here I am, running around the neighborhood in my bathrobe with my kitty carrier calling, "Here, pussy, pussy", catching up the little waif of a grey kitten/cat and schlepping her home (after first having emptied my bathroom  of anything breakable and installed, cat box, food and water dishes, kitty beds and various toys thereby making the room unusable for anything but temporarily housing a kitty).  And, at the stroke of midnight there will be no more food or water and at 7 am tomorrow she will be on her way to FIXNATION CLINIC to, as they say in the animal world, be "fixed".  Not that there is anything wrong with her, you understand....except that she is a succulent tempting female and two of the males that my 84 year old neighbor and I feed have been following her around drooling, making moon eyes and acting like she was the feline Marilyn Monroe........uh oh.

Some Wretch dumped this sweet child out into the cold before the holidays and she has been dining at the Califa St. buffets but when the other diners, Whiskas and Buster, suddenly would not let her out of their sight for a week we feared the worst and now that they have lost interest we are fearing even worse than the worst.  Her virginity lost, apparently knocked up, abandoned by the men who stole her innocence.......the old familiar melodrama enacted one more time...........

Frankly since vet rates have skyrocketed I have renounced this role of Rescuer, but I have just been advised by Catsters that there is a Blessed organization called Fixnation which supports the principle of Trap, Neuter and Release for feral and homeless kitties and dogs and will spay/neuter them for FREE.  This is a project close to my heart......no more homeless kittens and pups by some year or other  in the very near future ....hence I reluctantly got sucked into donning my red cape  in the nearest telephone booth  and jumping off the roof with my kitty carrier.

Now, if I can only manage to get myself out of bed at 7am tomorrow to transport her to the hospital, and if I can just tolerate not being able to use my master bathroom for a few days or a week till she recovers from surgery then all we need is to find some wonderful soul who will give her a good home.  I have my Cat Sitter working on this as we speak.

Please pray that Mr. or Ms. Wonderful appears miraculously ..............I do not need nor can I accept being the mother of 4 cats.  Winnie and Gussie have hissingly and growlingly expressed their violent objections to the idea........Baskin has not voted yet but I don't care what he wants in this case..  Sigh.......now, where is that damned wall again..........
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Make note of this address all ye who care about animals.  They neuter wild/feral animals free and tame animals for $55........a great price which includes shots and all that good stuff.  They will even lend you a trap if you need one.  And they have locations all over.  Please.

                                       www.fixnation.org
                                   

the 2011 Challenge

           I am in a very strange meditative, contemplative, brooding or otherwise introspective state.  Unfit for communicating with decent folk for sure.  During my annual year-end Inspection I have  become painfully aware that The Body which has housed my Spirit for, lo these 83 years, has been  broken, mended, re-mended, battered, tattered and torn too many times to count and seems hardly fit for further habitation. However, it is the only vessel I possess to occupy in this life so I guess I am stuck with it for the duration.  I have been trying to figure out  how to Charleston or Turkey Trot or even Boogie into a new year in this dubious condition and don't yet have the answers.  I do hope you precious and beloved people will all stick with me while I figure this out.        I also wish, while I am cogitating, that one of you would advise me about how to control where the type goes when I install a picture or illustration into my blog.  I find I am trapped into this endless column of words which the Blog God keeps rearranging on the page as I type, but am not permitted to create a spaced paragraph without going down to where my so-called toes are.  This is all very disconcerting and I am afraid if I continue to struggle with it I will get so annoyed, enraged and generally hot-under the collar that my glue will melt......a result which I fear would be tragic indeed.....I mean....who knows what the lower portion of my Spirit,now modestly hidden by its fragmented container,  looks like.......mustn't frighten the children, you know.   Or frighten myself for that matter.     Therefore, I am going to quietly withdraw and continue my pondering.  I will surely let you all know if I arrive at any bloggable conclusions.