Friday, November 28, 2008

Bogue and Weejer visit the West!

We hadn't heard from B&W in awhile and started to get a little worried about them until I got this letter from my good friend Shwhitney in Shoklahoma (I don't like giving my friends' personal info over the internet, so I'm using her code name).....

Last Thanksgiving, as we were gathered around the table feasting on delectable treats, there was a knock on our door. We all stopped eating and looked at each other – wondering who would leave their families to come visit ours on Thanksgiving. I jumped up and said, “I’ll answer it!” 

I opened the door slowly and a big strapping man, who I had never seen before, smiled gently and asked if he could come in. “May I ask who you are first,” I questioned. He gave me a reassuring look and instantly I knew that he was no intruder or murder, but a kind gent who needed something on Thanksgiving. I said, “Oh nevermind, come on in – are you hungry?” 

He took off his hat and politely declined, stating he had his brother in the car and he couldn’t stay long. We were all so intrigued with him – he was huge and very nice looking, and none of us could take our eyes off him long enough to figure out what he was doing there.

Mom offered him some iced tea, because he looked rather thirsty. He took a few drinks and then the thick glass goblet shattered into a million pieces all over the floor. He apologized profusely and uttered something to himself that sounded like, “sometimes even I can’t handle my own strength.” It made me a little nervous when I heard that, but I brushed it off as nothing. 

“Listen,” he said. “My brother and I just got back from a trip around the world and we are absolutely exhausted. We haven’t had a warm place to sleep or soft bed to sleep on in months.” 

“A trip around the world?” I asked.

“Yes,” he stated, “you see, I am a doctor and my brother is a bazillionaire. We went around the world giving to the needy and caring for the sick and hurt. We were gone for 6 and a half years. We encountered a lot of adversity in some countries, but nothing that we couldn’t handle. I have a black belt in karate and my brother is a world champion boxer. We definitely held our own against the bad guys. Once, while in Africa, a lion jumped out of the forest and pinned me down. Just as his massive teeth were about to tear into my throat, my brother grabbed him by his tail, swung him over his head a few times, and threw him into the next village. It was a close call, but we managed. That’s just one of the many examples of the tough situations we faced.”

“Wow….”, we all said in unison.

My little cousin, being the naïve little one that he is asked, “how many times did you have to get gas, driving all the way around the world?”

The kind man patted his head and said, “son, a meager car will not get you all the way around the world. You have to have a boat, as well.” 

He then went on to tell us of the time they were sailing across the Mediterranean Sea and they got a hole in their boat. The boat began to sink, and they had no life preservers. They did what they had to do and began swimming. When one got tired, he would grab onto the other one’s foot and they would take turns doing this until they hit land. They swam for 56 hours straight before hitting any land, and when they finally did, they found themselves on a deserted island. They slept for an entire day before hunting for food and after 62 days on that island, they finally made their way off and on to their next destination.

“What did you do when you hit land, I mean, what did you do for transportation?” my brother asked.

“My brother is a bazillionaire, remember? We bought 8 cars total on this trip and when we were finished using them, we donated them to the needy,” he explained.

“Wow – you two have been through a LOT. Why haven’t you had a decent place to stay in a while?” my mom asked.

“Well, people see our size and our ruggedness and refuse service to us. Not a hotel, inn or home from here to Toronto, Canada will take us in. We have been sleeping in our car for the past few weeks and pardon me for complaining, but we have had it! We have 9 more days in the car before we hit home, and I don’t think we can make it another night crammed in there.” 

I wondered how the two of them could fit in one car together. They were massive. 

Mom insisted he sit down for a home cooked Thanksgiving dinner and went to the car to invite his brother in. His brother was quiet, even more reserved, and had the same pleasant smile. They were genuine people, and we all knew it just by looking at them.

They ate until there was not a morsel or crumb left to clean up and then Mom made up the beds for them to sleep for as long as they needed. They told a few more stories about their adventures across the world and then retired early for a decent nights sleep. We were all mesmerized by the two men and hoped that they would stay at least a few more days. We stayed up until midnight, reliving their tales and analyzing each part. 

When we woke the next morning, I gently pushed open the guest bedroom door to invite the nice men to breakfast. The beds were made up and it looked as if no one had even been there. There was not even a footprint in the carpet – simply straight and perfect vacuum lines. 

I hollered for Mom to come here and we both stood in the doorway in awe – wondering if we had both dreamed of the nice men who had traveled around the world. I gave her a strange look and just as I was turning my head, something caught my eye.

A note.

I ran to the bed and opened the letter.

I read aloud.

“Dearest Kind Family,

Thank you so much for your generous hospitality. I do believe that you were sent to us from God as encouragement to make our final leg of the trip. Your beds exceeded our expectations and we both slept like babies. Your food was better than the 5 star restaurants in which we dined in Moscow and Paris. But above all, your loving hearts made this entire trip worth it, and gave us a glimmer of hope that maybe we were to others, what you were to us. 

Forever indebted, 

Bogue and Weejer.”

Can you believe I met them? :)

Shwhitney, thank you so much for sharing that with us! We thought they might be out West somewhere, but hadn't heard from them since they were last in Alaska. They had been living with a pack of Ursus arctos middendorffi (Kodiak brown bears), teaching them sign language, but they said they were headed further south for the winter, seeing as how they don't hibernate. 

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Little Brother Noah

(just so you know, I wrote this with his permission)
I have two younger brothers...the oldest of the two is Noah. Noah is in college. Noah is a smart boy...a very smart boy. However, Noah can't spell very well (bless his heart) nor can he use commas correctly. So, my mom makes me proofread his papers. When I say "makes," I mean she asks me politely to read over them because "Noah is just a baby and Ruth, just help him. I mean, he's just a baby boy." So, yeah. Well, he's a junior now, so I've had a few papers to read through in the past two and a half years. 

Noah is a very good writer, he really is. He just struggles with sentence structure and grammar sometimes. I've come to appreciate being able to proofread Noah's papers, because, not only are they informational, they are very entertaining. I'll curl up with a cup 'o David's hot chocolate and one of Noah's papers over a movie any day of the week. Noah's like me...he tries to speak and talk as quickly as he thinks. And since he and I are both geniuses, we think pretty fast. That's why my typing has a lot of these............and that's why I have a lot of run-on sentences....and that's why a lot of what I say or type doesn't make sense...and that's why I collapse in a pile of drool when I'm talking to people. Anyways. Sometimes his brain is processing information so quickly, that his sentences kind of poop out on him and they end in nonsense. Sometimes it's whole paragraphs...leaving you scratching your head like "what did I just read?" Also, he writes the dadburn things at 3 am, so he's half asleep when he sends them to me.

I wanted you to enjoy the bliss I've experienced from reading little Noah's papers and I'm including a selection of my favorite sentences below. These were all corrected before he turned them in, btw. 

From his paper about soldiers during the Civil War:
"Soldiers were required to sleep in dirty camps filled with germs and dirt."
(Dirty camps are filled with dirt...I had no idea.)

"What would cause two brothers, on opposing sides of the war, to face each other on the battlefield and point their guns at each other dead?"
(It was a nice sentence and then dead.)

From one of his book reports:
"The beginning and end of this book were much like the beginning and end of a journey that corresponds with the beginning and end of this book."

From his paper about the movie Elizabeth:
"However, when there are shots of the crowds, it is obvious that the majority of people were very poor, which correlates with 16th century England, as most people were very poor."
(We understand that most people were very poor.)

"The movie is filled with many plots and subplots that are filled with subplots that are filled with secrets and romance."
(That movie is gonna be full with all that filling.)

"The film also shows her living a life of luxury and leisure proven by the fact that Queen Elizabeth had many balls and dances."
(Well...alrighty then.)

Monday, November 24, 2008

While You Were Sleeping...

I was driving back from lunch and this song was on the radio. It's the new one from Casting Crowns. You may have heard it, but I hadn't and I was just blown away. It's incredible. I had to share: 

Oh little town of Bethlehem
Looks like another silent night
Above your deep and dreamless sleep
A giant star lights up the sky
And while you’re lying in the dark
There shines an everlasting light
For the King has left His throne
And is sleeping in a manger tonight, tonight

Oh Bethlehem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
For God became a man
And stepped into your world today
Oh Bethlehem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping

Oh little town of Jerusalem
Looks like another silent night
The Father gave His only Son
The Way, the Truth, the Life had come
But there was no room for Him in the world He came to save

Jerusalem, what you have missed while you were sleeping
The Savior of the world is dying on your cross today
Jerusalem, you will go down in history
As a city with no room for its King
While you were sleeping
While you were sleeping

United States of America
Looks like another silent night
As we’re sung to sleep by philosophies
That save the trees and kill the children
And while we’re lying in the dark
There’s a shout heard ‘cross the eastern sky
For the Bridegroom has returned
And has carried His bride away in the night, in the night

America, what will we miss while we are sleeping
Will Jesus come again
And leave us slumbering where we lay
America, will we go down in history
As a nation with no room for its King
Will we be sleeping?
Will we be sleeping?

United States of America
Looks like another silent night

Twilight Madness

So...Friday night, we went and had supper with some friends at California Pizza Kitchen. Mmmm MMMM...delicious. If you haven't eaten there, you should, because I hear they're closing. Ha, just kidding. That was dumb...I...don't even know why I said that...moving along. Afterwards, I wanted to go see a movie. It was getting pretty late and with movies costing your first-born child per person, I knew whatever we saw had to be good. 

We had originally talked about seeing Twilight and then changed our minds to maybe go see Madagascar 2 or Quantum of Solace. But, we ended up getting tickets for Twilight. I had never heard of the books until maybe two months ago. And then all of a sudden, TWILIGHT EXPLOSION! It's all I hear about...mostly from 11-18 year old girls. The time we wanted to see was sold out. I was like "what?!" We ended up getting a later time. I'm thinking "Is this like Star Wars or LOTR? What is the deal?" We walked over to Barnes & Noble to peruse while we waited for our time. I was looking at planners and David was walking through Sci-Fi. He comes to a kiosk with none other than the Twilight saga. While he's reading the back of the book, a girl in her mid-20's comes up and asks him, "Have you read them?" David's like, "Read these?"   "Uh. Yeah."   "No, I haven't read them."   "Ohh, they are fabulous! You have to read them!"   "Well, actually, we're about to go see--"   "You have to read them! They're incredible! You know there's a movie, right?"   "Yeah, I got that. Thanks."  I missed the conversation, but David said he thought she was going to eat him. 

I like to get to the theater about 20 minutes before showtime, so I get my perfect the middle of the middle. We walk into the theater and you would have thought it was Star Wars: The Remake of the Remake. It was insane. 99.9% of the people in the hallways of the theater were girls. I turned to David and mouthed "sorry." I mean, I knew it was a teenage vampire love story, but I didn't realize just how much so. I like vampire stories as does David, so we thought we'd give it a try. I didn't get my middle middle seat, but I did get left middle, so close enough. We're quietly chatting, waiting for the previews to start and David pulls my sleeve and points at a girl a few rows in front of us, "It's Barnes and Noble girl!" And sure enough, there she was, in all her Twilight glory...dressed head to toe in black, wearing her Twilight logo shirt.
 She was with about 6 of her friends and they were steady talking about what's his face. B&N girl says, "O-M-G, I have been waiting for this day for forever, b-t-w." I'm did not just talk in text. And oh yes, she did. 

The movie starts and about 15 or so minutes in, we meet what's his face for the first time. While I'm thinking "hey, that's the kid from Harry Potter," my ponderings are quickly hushed by a supersonic blast of little girl shrieks. After my ears stopped bleeding and I regained auditory abilities again, I shook my head and wondered "what have we gotten ourselves into?" I thought maybe they just freaked cuz it was what's his face and they'd shush the rest of the film, but the middle of the movie, there was a makey-outey scene. Well, I didn't see it because my vision was blocked by the overpowering black wave of "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEks!!" coming from everywhere in the theater. It was like a creepy, high-pitched Gregorian chant...I'm like "did y'all plan this?" Also, the girl directly to my right was a distraction. It was a mid-20's gal and her mom...I thought, "nice, some normal folks." No, she was the worst one. From the time we see what's his face, where she gasped (one of many times during the movie), to the time the credits roll, she held her hands to her face like the blonde star in a 1920's horror film. Not only did she gasp every 20 seconds, she sobbed the entire last half of the film. I was ankle deep in tears. It wasn't even sad!! I looked at her and said "Really? Really?! You are at least 25. Get ahold of yourself, woman!" as I slapped her twice across her tear-streaked face and grabbed her shoulders to shake the living mess out of her. Actually, no I didn't do that. Parallel Universe Ruth did that to her in the parallel universe in which I sometimes imagine myself when I want to do something brave, stupid or necessary but is not acceptable to do so in this universe. 

Now, I will admit...what's his face is pretty. 
He's no David, but he has nice hair and he's a cutie patootie and he did a good job as a vampire. But, come on! I had girl crushes, of course, but I never cried about it. I cried when Bambi's mom died or when White Bull let Tonka go because he loved that horse. 

All in all, I thought the movie was great and I did enjoy it. It was definitely more for girls, but David said he enjoyed it, too. It was a neat story and I liked how they portrayed the vampires. 
Oh my goodness, what's his face is sooooooo gorgeous! That's my best 14-year old impression. 

Friday, November 21, 2008


Why does my neighbor down the road, who has no business being shirtless, stand in his driveway, shirtless, and just watch the cars going by at the same time every day? It's 49 degrees out and put on a shirt! 

Why do people not use their blinkers? I mean...that's what they're there for. Use them! 

Why do girls try to look like movie stars? They're robots. They're not real, ladies! It's gross. Eat a sandwich. 

Along with that, why do girls wear clothing that's obviously way too tight? I mean, it's uncomfortable for you, it's comfortable for those of us who have to look at you...why do it? It's like my grandfather always says, "It's two tons of lard in a one-ton sack." 

Why would anybody like winter more than spring? Cold and stupid outside vs. pleasantness and perfection outside. I mean...the choice is obvious. 

Why do people think cats are evil? Just because they eat people alive and pee on visitors' belongings and prowl on your face at night does not mean they're evil. Gracious.

Why do some people not like chocolate? That, is like...I mean, I-I can't even comprehend that...I'm going to cry...moving on. 

Why do people like horror movies? Is it fun to jump a mile out of your seat every 10 minutes for 2 hours and then have nightmares for a week? Is that the cool thing to do? 

Why, why, WHY??!! must men ask "Is it that time of the month?" to a woman who is experiencing that time of the month? I mean, do they want to die? 

Why do I always get behind Pokey McSlow on my way home? I just want to get hoooooome! If you're not going to go the speed limit, stay home or wait until 3 am when you won't bother anybody. 

Why do people love football so much? (Ah, I'm gonna get a lot of flak for that one.) But seriously, it's much too much pretty to stay inside and watch TV. 

Why would you spit out gum right where I'm going to step? Be more considerate of where I walk.

Why would I want to call you "Aunt Miri"? I don't even know you.

Why, oh WHY did they cancel Pushing Daisies?? That was one of the most original and creative and sweet TV shows ever made. Blast you, ABC. 

Why is it not 4:00 pm yet?? 

Seriously though, why do some people not like chocolate? 

Thursday, November 20, 2008


So, just a sec ago I was uploading the motorcycle pictures and I thought "I need a picture with my chaps!" So, I ran and grabbed them and put on some jeans and David was like, "You look like a superhero." And I'm like, "What do you mean look like a superhero? I am a superhero." So he told me to do some superhero poses, so my 5 second photoshoot with the chaps turned into a 10 minute superhero glamor shot session...except without the glamor. By the way, I can't "do" faces. When someone says "be serious" or "be mysterious" or "be happy" it's all the same dumb look. I just have one. I'm a Derek Zoolander. I just have one Magnum/Blue Steel. It's either the one look or I'm laughing. For example...

The Ruthinator. Keeping the world safe from...something. (I realize that superheroes wouldn't wear white socks with their superoutfit.)

This is me and my trusty sidekick, The Shamtar, going after the bad guys.

The Shamtar turns against The Ruthinator!

I'll get you, Arthur Petrelli!  

This by itself is something only a superhero could do...hold Blue in one arm and Seumas in the other and live to tell about it. 

Motorcycles...vroom vroom!

Okay, Mom...don't read this post, okay? If you read it you're just going to get yourself in a tizzy and call me at work and I won't be able to talk at work, so just save yourself the frustration and don't read this one. I know I told you, "Hey Mom, go check out my blog," but there are some things you just shouldn't read and you're too young and go check or something. 

So, David and I have motorcycles and we heart them very much. We originally had the big one, Winona, but it was a tad too big for me, so we...Mom, I said don't read it. Seriously. is calling. I'm sure there's a new food I should or shouldn't eat. Go forward it to me....anyways, so we got me a smaller bike, Marahute. I love Marahute. She's awesome. Riding bikes is one of the most peaceful and calming things in the world. You experience things you wouldn't experience in a makes road trips waaaaay more fun. It's amazing the smells...Mom, seriously! Stop!...the smells you miss when you're in a, trees, breezes (breezes do have a scent), etc. Sometimes the smells aren't always good, but they usually pass quickly. When David and I ride together, I enjoy just hanging out in the back, chillin'. Sunsets are a whole new experience...I know it sounds super cheesy and cliché, but you really do feel more alive. God's creation is incredible. 

Last year, we went on the Trail of of the largest biker get-togethers in the world. People come from all over. It is a motorcycle ride that "remembers" the 15,000 Cherokee Indians who were forced from their homes in Georgia, Tennesse, Alabama and Mississippi and relocated to Oklahoma in the late 1830's. Thousands of them died along the way. The ride is approximately 30 miles and roughly 30,000 riders join in. It's fantastic! At the main stopping place in Florence, AL, there are a bunch of vendors and Native American storytellers and traditional Indian dances. It's really cool. I'm glad we got to be a part of it. 

David and I are pretty normal bikers...well, no, we're not. We're more like Mr. and Mrs. Tame...there are some craaaaaaaaaazy folks who ride bikes out there. But I tell you what, they're the nicest people you'll ever meet. Always wanting to chat and just truly sincere folks. We have normal biker gear. We always wear jeans, vented jackets with armor in the spring/summer and leather jackets in the fall/winter. I wear chaps when it gets cold. Yes, chaps. Gauntlet gloves and liners. Boots. David has police motorcycle boots and I have my honky lesbo boots. Then, of course, helmets...full-face. Not taking any chances. I know I'm stupid enough riding a motorcycle (no comments from you, Mother), I'm not gonna be stupid and wear a brain pan helmet. 

Anyways...there's my motorcycle talk. I suggest that, even if you don't want to own one, at least give one a try. Go for a ride with someone who has really is amazing. Well, Mom, I know you read the whole thing. I warned you and I'm sure you're all flustered now and chattering away to yourself...but I told you not to read and now I can't help you. You only have yourself to blame. 

This is me and Winona...she's a Yamaha V-Star 1100 Silverado.

This is me and Marahute...she's a Kawasaki Vulcan 500 LTD.

This is apparently how hardcore bikers sleep on the Trail of Tears.

Here's a prettier picture of the same guy.

Gracious alive! There's a fox attacking that Viking!

These are some theme bikes...Spiderman and something else.

On the trail.

A variety of bikes showed up...that guy totally has a La-Z-Boy for his passenger seat. 

My sweetie pie all rawr in his get-up. 

Heading home.

Some pics of Winona.

Who are Bogue and Weejer anyway?

I've had a few people ask me "who are Bogue and Weejer?" And I'm thinking "you know, Bogue and Weejer! Duh." But then I remember, yeah, no one knows that inside joke. It all started about 28 years ago when my sister was born. My grandfather, on my mom's side, had just gotten back from hunting in the Amazonian rainforest. He had been there for about 2 years with my grandmother. He lost an eye and three fingers amidst the prehistoric wiles of the jungle. He had a glass eye fitted and had it inscribed with these words around the iris... Si hoc legere scis, nimis eruditionis habes. The day following their return to the states, my sister was born. She goes by Sara, but her birth name is Penthesilea, which means "queen of the Amazons." Papaw would flood Sara with stories of his adventures even before she could speak...his run-ins with the natives, his escape from a hoard of wild boar, amputating his own fingers to save his life...she was were all of the other grandchildren that followed.

So, I'm sure you realize that none of that is true. I do have a sister, Sara, and my grandparents...but that's it. But I had to tell you that because it relates to Bogue and Weejer. Papaw really would tell us ridiculous stuff like that and we all believed him. Mamaw would get onto him saying it wasn't good for us, but I mean, we all turned out somewhat okay, I guess. When Papaw was a young boy (this is true, btw) in the mountains and woods of North Alabama, he and his two cousins would play. Papaw has never called anybody by their real names...even his own wife and children (my mom and uncles). For example, my grandmother is called Snuff (he was in the Korean War and "snafu" was a term they used [I won't explain it] and Papaw shortened it to "Snuff" and that's what he calls Mamaw.) My mom and two uncles are Lucy, Laid, and Line (shortened from Lucy Goosey Gander, Ladybug Johnson, and Linus the Lionhearted.) you can see, he loves to come up with new names for people. The names he gave his two cousins were Bogue and Weejer. The name he gave his best friend growing up was Sedrick Wolf Weehunk. As they all got older, Bogue and Weejer decided to do something productive...they became moonshiners. They would pay off the sheriff in town and he'd let them keep moonshinin'. Here's a picture of them and their moonshine still:
Actually, that's not really them. Just a picture I googled (and one that I do not own the rights to nor to which I mean any copyright infringement, blah blah). Well, when Papaw would tell us stories...either of Old Blue, the dog who saved the three-legged lamb or his own version of the three little piggies, where the piggies burned the wolf alive at the end (the stories were kind of morbid, now that I think about it)...he would always throw Bogue and Weejer into the story somehow. And Bogue and Weejer did a lot of things... they invented lightning, they went into space - five times, they could speak any language, they could talk to animals, they wrestled bars (bears), they rode horses backwards, they panned for gold in 1848 (we never caught onto that one), they made necklaces out of cougar teeth and so on. We believed every. single. word.

So, now, when the whole family gets together, and someone asks a question...any question...Bogue and Weejer are some how involved. "Who ate the last cookie? Bogue and Weejer." "Whose room are you staying in? Bogue and Weejer's." "What firm do you work with now? Bogue and Weejer, LLC" "What time is it? Bogue and Weejer." Basically, we're a proud family of liars...and moonshiners. We know that only a handful of the stories Papaw told us growing up were true, but somehow, Papaw can still get us every now and then. My mom, Papaw and my uncles are masters of tall tales. They'll have us captivated with an incredible narrative of a guy surviving a shark attack and how he fought off the beast with his own severed leg and we're all like "Wow! Where did this happen? Is the guy okay now?" The reply we'd get would be "Yeah, he's at Bogue and Weejer Hospital in Florida." Then we'd groan and roll our eyes...punching ourselves for falling for yet another B&W story.

Anyways. I couldn't think of a good name for my company and since Bogue and Weejer had done everything else in the world, I figured they might as well have a design company and blog, so there you go.

Man, I'm cool...

How about I went all day yesterday with my shirt on backwards. It wasn't until about 5:30 pm when I was changing to exercise that I noticed it. I thought that my neckline was mighty tight and kind of choke-y all day. Makes me feel really good about myself. Blast Old Navy and their "no tag" shirts.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Soft Paws Indeed!

I know you've heard me talk about our cat/office manager, Blue. She's half blue point Siamese and half pure evil (that's a line taken from Friends, if anybody noticed). I love her to death and couldn't imagine life without her. We've had her for four and a half years and right after we got married, I begged and begged and begged to get a kitty. David caved in and let me pick her out and everything. Well, she was the last one at the breeders, so we had to take her, but that's beside the point. Then I cried and cried and cried because I'm not an indoor animal person and she assumed the carpet was her litter box (kittens do NOT speak English, btw) and there was fur and I'm a neat freak and then I realized, God sent me little Blue to help me with my OCD issues. I still have issues, but I'm a lot more chill about them now. And thankfully we moved out of that apartment almost 4 years ago and the new tenant has to deal with Blue's...leakings.

Blue is somewhat bi-polar. Sometimes she's sweet and cuddly and purrs on my head incessantly at night and, although it's cute at 3pm, it's not cute at 3am. Other times, she's cranky and manipulative and an all-around brat. I mean, just the other day, I walked into the bathroom and there was a message written in lipstick on my mirror..."Die, short one." I was amazed at first, because, Yay, Blue is finally learning to spell! Then I was wondering if she meant the message for me or for Seumas...but I figured it was for me because it was written at my eye level. Either way, it was rude and uncalled for.

Blue has a thick Russian accent, even though she's Siamese. She smokes in the house, and even though we don't tolerate that kind of behavior, she finds a way to sneak them in. I send her on grocery errands sometimes, so I'm guessing that's when she gets them. Anyways. She went south of the border a few weeks ago and had this illegal surgery done...she had eagle talons transplanted onto her paws to replace her normal cat claws. Golly, those things are sharp and she definitely uses them. I was afraid for our arms, legs, faces, lives and for the life of Seumas, her unwitting lackey. One morning, I woke up to find her sitting on my chest with one deadly talon unsheathed from it's fuzzy grey her heavy Russian slur, she spoke, "Let's put a smile on that face!" I jumped up and promptly told David, we have got to do something about those claws. I also changed our Netflix password...I told her she was watching too many movies.

So, I ordered her some Soft Paws...the humane alternative to declawing. You can order them in a variety of colors and sizes....even for small dogs. I chose the rainbow collection, because Blue is like a rainbow...beautiful, full of color, usually prefaced by harsh thunder and lightning. Last night, Blue proudly donned her new fingernails and pranced around the house for awhile. She didn't like it at first, but knew it was a necessity. I have some pictures:

This is Blue's normal look. I didn't doctor any of these photos. I consider myself a connoisseur of natural photography and I can't stand those designers who have to touch up every single picture.

This is Blue's "hmm...what have they put on my claws" look. She was trying to pull the Soft Paws off.

This is David trying to assure Blue that this is the best thing for everyone and the squinty eyed side-stare from Blue is her "touch me and I'll kill you" look.

This is Blue's "I'm plotting your deaths" look. Either that or her Eeyore-inspired "I have no friends" look.

Aren't they pretty??

This is me extending the hand of friendship to Blue...which she rudely rejected. Hmmph (pout).

So, now everyone in the family is happy and she can be merciless to her heart's content.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

First Post!

Hey! I got the first post on this site! Woot!'s just me. Ah well. It was fun for a second. I used to think blogs were dumb. Like, who sits around and reads other people's random ramblings? Then I thought, "Wait a sec...I like to sit around...I like random things...and I like to ramble. Blogs are for ME!" So, I started reading a friend's blog and then another friend's and then some random strangers' blogs...I was instantly addicted. (I'm seeing someone about it, btw. I've appeared on Intervention...twice. Both episodes will air in June.) I've also realized that soon I'll be at home by myself a lot and I already have a tendency to "save up" the things I want to say throughout the day and since some might say talking to a dog and cat all day is crazy (I'm not going back to BellReve), I sometimes find myself keeping an internal blog. And when my dear husband comes home at night, I explode verbally all over him...literally throwing up entire conversations I had had that day with myself...chunks of complaints and general whinings, streamy globs of excitements and revelations, watery runnings of plans and's disgusting. After David wipes his face clean from the mess I have just spewed all over him, he laughs and asks "Do you miss talking to people?" And I realize...I DO! (It's quiet where I work.) So, I decided to start my own you guys can hear all of my random ramblings and so I can be a normal person when my hugsy bear comes home. Anyways.

So, this morning we were getting ready to go to church and, even though I hate the cold, I was excited because it was cold outside and I had been waiting to wear this particular sweater alllll year long because it's soft and cute and I like it. I finished my hair and makeup and as I was donning my cutie patootie sweater and zipping up my boots, David comes into the bathroom and says, "I like that sweater. It looks like a Star Trek uniform." After I woke up from my red hot fury blackout, I looked at him and said, "What?!" He repeats, "It looks like a Star Trek uniform." I'm like, "I know what you said! Why would you say it?" He proceeds with, "It looks good! I thought you liked Star Trek uniforms." I follow with, "Yeah, for Halloween!" I turned and looked in the mirror to make sure my moment of wrath had not ruined my makeup and caught myself staring at a white Lieutenant Uhura. It DID look like a Star Trek uniform, made all the more obvious by my front button panel sailor jeans and high-heeled boots. I couldn't help but laugh and since we were running late, I wore my uniform to church proudly. The truth is, I love Star Trek. I blame my dad, who would let us watch reruns with him as we were growing up. So, I guess I'm a little okay with my Star Trek uniform sweater from Old year's Halloween for sure.
I even have a Tricorder. If only I could find my Communicator....
Well, I'm going to go exercise. We space travelers have to stay fit.