Meme's Letters to Louis

Last week, Meme made a new get well card and a Christmas card for her cousin, Louis Potter, who still isn't feeling as well as we would like.


She's a very sweet cat. :D And we're hoping Louis feels better very soon. Get well, Louie!

What's This Now?

The tree's not even finished yet and already the baby's waiting under it for Santa! According to Mike, she told him that she's not leaving until she gets "Wals and Gomit." She and I watched Wallace and Grommit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit the other night and she can't stop talking about it. (I know - we need a hobby).

My Kittens' Wish List

The kits have been busy making their wish list for Santa. Actually, Mike and I have been helping a little. Furio and Meme need something that they can scratch besides my furniture! We have asked my Dad to build them something but he's taking his sweet time about it! I had hoped that perhaps a little boost to his memory might do the trick.

Some examples for my Dad to look at (hint, hint)...

Carpet and/or rope are excellent scratching surfaces!

When I was looking for examples, though, I found a couple of other things. This is the coolest litter box I've ever seen! It is aesthetically pleasing and it has a couple of different features which would make cleaning the litter box ever so much more pleasant. Mike looked at it and said, "Looks expensive." And so it is. All of this stuff is expensive! Cat furniture is quite a racket. If I had any sort of artistic talent, I'd make a fortune!

This is the cat tree that Meme wants, although Furio says that it offends his masculine sensibilities and that he would never scratch a purple flower.

I Walked a Mile

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne'er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When sorrow walked with me.

---Robert Browning Hamilton

**The picture is from here.

A Matt Night

The holiday season is the time when you miss people the most. So I suppose it comes as no surprise that I've had a few bad days lately. Tonight's a Matt night. If he hadn't died in 2003, he'd be turning 27 in a couple of weeks and tonight I've found myself wondering what he'd be up to now. Something ornery, no doubt.

It's been really hard for me to adjust to a life without Matt. The first clear memory I have was bringing him home from the hospital and, with the possible exception of Mike, he was the best friend I ever had.

I don't wish him back from Heaven to suffer on this earth...but sometimes I pine for him.

In Memory of You
by Kristi A Dyer

I find an old photograph
and see your smile.
As I feel your presence anew,
I am filled with warmth
and my heart remembers love.

I read an old card
sent many years ago
during a time of turmoil and confusion.
The soothing words written then
still caress my spirit
and bring me peace.

I remember who you used to be
the laughter we shared
and wonder what you have become.
Where are you now,
Where did you go,
When the body is left behind
and the spirit is released to fly?

Perhaps you are the morning bird
singing joyfully at sunrise,
or the butterfly that dances
so carelessly on the breeze
or the rainbow of colors
that brightens a stormy sky
or the fingers of afternoon mist
delicately reaching over the mountains
or the final few rays of the setting sun
lighting up the skies
edging the clouds with a magical glow.

I miss your being
but I feel your presence,
In whatever form you choose to take,
however you now choose to be.

Your spirit has become for me
a guardian angel on high
guiding, advising, and watching over me.

I remember you.
You are with me
and I am not afraid.

Sometimes I watch COPS because in my head I can hear him making sarcastic comments - and for that half an hour, it's as if he's sitting next to me and we're watching together like we did before he died. Nobody can ever make me laugh like he used to.

Someone once asked me if losing Matt had made me question my faith in God and I said that it didn't. The night he died, I had a heart to heart with God. For the entire three weeks he'd been in the hospital, I'd prayed for God to make him better and to not let him die. Then my mom called and said that his kidneys had shut down and that they weren't sure he would make it. When I hung up, I said, "God...if You are going to take him...if this is Your will, I promise that I won't question it...just please take him now. Please don't let him suffer any more." Within an hour, he was gone.

To Matt - If Heaven has internet and you can read this...I love you and I miss you very much. Give Mom a kiss for me. And until I see you guys - for Heaven's sake, behave! :D

Read Mike's Post!

Make sure you read Mike's post! He's complaining because my old pictures have pushed him halfway down the page already. :D Perhaps he should post more often. ;)

Old Pictures, Part One

The last time my dad came up to Chicago to visit, he brought a little tupperware bowl full of old pictures and I decided to post a few of my favorites. They're completely in random order and leapfrog from decade to decade, so I'll try and explain them as I go along.

Who is this cutie in a box?

Why it's me! Aren't I cute? I'm about three here, I think. I deduced that from the fact that my parents have obviously just purchased a car seat and Matt was born in 1980 - making me three.

The back of this picture indicates that it was taken Christmas, 1979. My dad sticks his tongue out when he's concentrating too...just thought I'd share that.

My cousin, Sara and I as Miss Sweet Sixteens at Midwest Old Thresher's, 1993.

Matt, mid-1980's. I have no idea how old he is here. From Jeff's moped in the background, I'd say he's four or five.

This little scutter is my now 16 year old nephew, Caleb with his mom, Tracy. Man, he was cute. Still is, I guess.

I really like this picture even though you can't see our faces. It's Jeff, Dad and I going on a bike ride. In this picture, my dad was just a year or two older than I am right now.

Here's a picture of my Granny, who I also miss a lot. She's been gone nine years now. Look how much my dad has aged in this picture from the one above...I blame Matt (toddling in front of Granny) and Jeff. :D

Speaking of Jeff...nice pants! Ha!

I also really love all of these old pictures of Jeff. Not only because he was a doll (he was), but because my mom was so young and beautiful in all these pictures.

Old Pictures, Part Two

I ran out of space and decided to split these posts up....

You know you were born in Iowa if...you learned to drive a tractor before you could see over the steering wheel and/or reach the pedals. I was really good, though - just ask my dad! P.S. My Granny would be horrified that I posted this picture because you can see my panties! Shocking.

Matt on the bridge over the creek in our back pasture. I don't know what year this was - late 80's, I suppose. My Uncle Tony built this bridge for my Granny, so she could cross the creek without climbing down the embankment. The bridge is no longer standing. When it rained and most of Iowa flooded in 1993, this creek raised so much that the force of the rushing water washed the bridge away and crumbled the rock wall that it's setting on on the left side.

Jeff in one of his Little League uniforms.

Jeff again - this time helping to shovel the walkway. Once again...nice pants. :D

My dad and Jeff sledding. This picture made me homesick.

I must have scanned all of the Jeff pictures right together because here he is again! This is my Uncle Tony pulling Jeff with the lawnmower.

Ah, yes - here I am. I'm pretty sure these are my first grade pictures. Either kindergarten or first grade. For some reason, we apparently had a ton of them left over.

Jeff again?! He's just too cute, I guess. Plus I love the green and yellow shag carpet we had in our house when he was a kid. Very 70's.

This is the Ralph I remember. One time we were going to go to my Uncle John's house and my baby brother refused to get dressed. (You can see Matt's stubby, naked little legs here.) He was probably two or three at the time, which would have made me about five or six. My mom said that it was fine if he didn't want to get dressed. She'd just put Matt's clothes on the dog and take him in Matt's place. As I recall, Matt tried to call her bluff but chickened out as she was carrying Ralph (fully dressed in Matt's clothes) out of the door to the car. I just remember this was the funniest thing ever to me.

Here I am in Arkansas! This is the summer before fourth grade and it's the only "real" vacation that I remember our family ever taking. I remember that my mom bought us souvenir after souvenir on this trip - which may be why we never went on a big vacation after this - my dad probably had to work overtime to pay for this one! Anyway, we went to Branson and my dad had promised to take me across the state lines so I could say I'd been to Arkansas. We took my dad's pick up truck, which had a topper over the bed. Dad had put in a old school bus seat and a little mattress - so anybody who was back there (usually me and Jeff) could get comfortable. It seems amazing to me that my family drove all that way with us kids in the back of the truck (very redneck)...but, as I recall, it was great fun and actually quite comfortable. Of course, I was eight - so what did I know about comfortable travel? Anyway, the day came when my dad took me across into Arkansas and I was so sick. I felt like I was going to die and remember my mom being insistent that I go stand by the sign and get my picture taken when all I wanted to do was crawl into some dark hole and die.

Look how young my dad is here! Younger than I am now - about 27 or 28, I'd say. My dad told me a story with this picture that still makes me laugh. When my parents got married, my dad was working the night shift and slept all day. One day shortly after they got married, my mom stood at the end of the bed, yelled "Geronimo!" and jumped on him when he was sleeping...and the bed collapsed. The had to pull this bed (the one he's sleeping on) out of the attic to replace the bed she'd broken.

One last picture of Jeff - but this time with my mom. As I was saying, she always looks so young and beautiful in the pictures with little Jeff. She's probably 23 in this picture. It's probably a good thing that she's dead - because she'd probably kill me for posting a picture of her with her hair all in curlers.

A Resolution

First, I have to say that I must learn to appreciate my husband more often. Today was my follow up appointment with the dermatologist and it had become obvious that he was going to have to re-treat at least one of my fingers.

I was a little anxious because the month that has passed did little to diminished the memory of how much it freaking hurt! This morning when Mike woke me up, he was very sympathetic about my appointment. He reset the alarm so that it would go off an hour later and came around to my side of the bed. He kept talking to me to reassure me and rubbing my back. Talk, talk, talk, talk...and I'm thinking, "Look, I only have an hour before I have to get up - can you go to work now?"

But, later I was thinking...if my mom's death has taught me anything - it is how much you miss those little, annoying things that people you love do. So I made an early New Year's resolution. I am going to be more patient. I can hear my dad laughing already. Then this crazy guy on the subway kept staring at me and trying to talk me into going home with him - and I qualified it. I'm going to be more patient with Mike. The rest of you whack jobs are still fair game. :D

Making the mashed potatoes, or things I should have paid attention to when I was younger

So Saturday night I decided to make my 2 days after Thanksgiving meal, or 363 days before, however you look at it. Next year is a leap year.

I've never made real mashed potatoes before, so I thought this would be a great time to start. Besides, any chowderhead with half a brain can make mashed potatoes, right? Not so fast, Charlie. I found that the art of the potato that is mashed is indeed an intricate science.

First thing I needed was a recipe. I needed to know exactly how much butter and milk to use and I didn't want to just throw a bunch in willy-nilly. I googled mashed potato recipes and was pelted with about 8 billion different recipes and picked what I thought was the easiest one. Anything with sour cream or cheese was summarily ignored.

First trick was to peel the potatoes. I had chunks of potato missing the wastebasket and flying all over the floor. And true to my nature, I had to pick up each piece before moving on.

With the potatoes finally peeled, I threw them into the water to boil. 10 minutes into the boil, I remembered to add in some salt. Cooked for a bit, and pierced with a fork. All good for now.

First mistake: I do not own a potato masher, only an electric mixer which I'm still getting to know. It's a good thing that Cindi wasn't watching me mix this up or she would have had a field day. As I'm mixing, I'm seeing small bits of butter and potato hit my shirt and the kitchen wall. A good CSI detective would have been able to tell you exactly where the work space was from the splatter. The mix is lumping up like crazy on the beaters, and what I'm looking at looks nothing like the mashed potatoes Mom still makes.

The second problem is that I have no clue as to how long I'm supposed to be mixing for. It looked like it needed more milk, so I poured some more in and ended up dumping way too much in. At this point, it appears to me that I've created a solquid (solid/liquid) mess that no one would eat.

I took a bite of my creation and it needed to go back on the stove to warm. In what seemed like forever, they finally heated up and were ready to eat along with my cornish hen and some corn.
They actually weren't that bad but never would have beat my Mom's in a blind taste test by Scott and Laurie, two mashed potato connoisseurs.

My Shame

This pig sty is my office. By now, it's apparent that I like to take random pictures. I thought that posting these would shame me into cleaning it. Probably not - the semester's almost over and I'll have a month off...what's the point in cleaning at the end of the semester?!

My bulletin board. Miscellaneous paintings, a page of Shakespearean insults, a pig picture that I keep forgetting to give to my friend MooShu (who loves all things piggy), and -of course- Bon Jovi!

My desk aka the Pit of Despair! Abandon hope all ye (papers) who enter here (as I will never find you again). Look at my computer screen - notice that I'm at work and I'm blogging. Yeah - productive. The shelf is overflowing with essays to be graded and attendance sheets to sort. The post-it note reminders add a certain something, don't they? A sophistication? No? Anybody?

And, last but not least, hanging on the shelf...my favorite word. I am, after all, (for now) an English teacher.

To Tree Or Not To Tree

Alas, we did not get the Christmas tree put up today. That was the plan. The place is newly spiffed up and ready to go. But to start off, Mike and I slept in. The cats were frantic as they had run out of food in the night and despite Furio's best efforts, he couldn't rouse us. And I do mean his best efforts. He walked on us, he jump from the floor to land on us, he licked my face, he lay down on us, he kneaded Mike like bread, he meowed pitifully...nothing! He had given up and was sitting in the window with Meme when Mike finally threw his legs over the side of the bed and headed for the door. I had to laugh, as immediately after he left I heard *thump* *thump* as both cats jumped out of the window and ran for the door.

Mike started to make breakfast, only to realize that we were out of hash browns and paper towels. (The paper towels are to put the bacon on...Heaven forbid we get grease on anything!) So - Mike had to go to Dominick's to pick up these items before we could proceed with making breakfast. (I blame Sandy for his neuroses - napkins wouldn't do...it had to be paper towels.)

As we were eating breakfast, I asked if we were going to put up the tree and it was decided that we would. Excited, I picked up the camera - ready to record the process. I told Mike to do something cute...so he smiled. Well, he is cute. :D

And I picked out where I want the tree to go. Mike initially wrinkled his nose in disdain at my selection. He wanted to put it in the middle of the house. The middle of the house! Where there are no windows! Apparently Sandy has not explained the rules about putting up a Christmas tree. You have to have it in a window so that everybody can see it and be humbled in the presence of your artistic genius, as your tree will be the most brilliant thing they have ever seen! Geez, everybody knows that! Now, we will have to shift around Mike's speaker and whatnot, but there's an outlet right here and it's right by the window into the courtyard where everybody can see it.

We finished breakfast and I was practically jumping up and down to go to the storage unit and pick up the tree and decorations. Mike informed me that we would go shortly..."In about a half hour or so."

So I killed time with one of my favorite activities...taking pictures of my cats. What? I'm practicing for when Mike and I (might) have babies! This picture should look real familiar to my dad, as he's seen Meme's teeth on numerous occasions. Actually I caught her in mid-yawn, but I bet it still looks familiar. :D

She immediately went back to sleep while Mike attempted to convince her to give him the recliner.
An hour and a half later, I'm like, "We're not going today, are we?" He said that we were...and then my friend MooShu called to tell me all about the latest problems with her boyfriend. Yikes. I thought when I got married that I was done dealing with boyfriend issues. Another hour later, I got off the phone to find Mike engrossed in ebay.

Then, inexplicably, we decided to go to Best Buy. We went home via Baskin Robbins where Mike demolished an Oreo sundae and I had a chocolate chip shake. By the time we got back, it was 8 PM!

As we pulled in, Mike says that he's going to go to the storage unit. And, in fact, he did! He brought up our decorations...
...and our Christmas tree.
But that's as far as we got. Neither one of us felt like messing with the silly thing tonight. Mike's gone to bed and Meme...well, she's back where she started. This was taken about half an hour ago.
Mike speculates that perhaps she's got mono.

Runway Buddy

Does anybody else watch Project Runway? It's like tv-crack. I can't stop. I need someone to discuss with or I'm going to drive Mike slowly insane with my fashion recap and Runway chatter. Someone save my poor husband's sanity. (Although he does love my impression of Ulli from last season..."I luv zee hot wezzah.")