Sunday, Apr. 10, 2005
Spending the weekend with my sister is always fun. Some sisters fight, others are lovey-dovey. My baby sister and I launch insults at one another, fully aware that the darts we fling are purely for show.
"You can't see any farther than the end of your nose! Then again, that's pretty far. Didn't Magellin sail around it at one point?"
"You have no taste in men." "Oh, this coming from the woman who once married Attila the Dumb?"
"Oh god... I hate to tell you this, but I think something nasty exploded all over that blouse. Wait... you mean it's SUPPOSED to look like that???"
Despite that deep and abiding pseudo-animosity, baby sister and I are close. Lousy marriages did impede our ability to hurl insults at each other from time to time, but in general we are the only family members who actually LIKE one another. I guess it's partly that we go way back - though the same could be said of my brother and I don't care for him. That's another story, though.
This weekend was spent cleaning Sis's house, no small undertaking. She's been working on it ever since aforementioned Attila the Dumb was forcibly removed by police. (No worries, I've done my bout married to the same namesake, too - another Attila the Dumb. Both of us have gotten that out of our system.) The place looks dramatically different now. I was going to get her a flower arrangement for her dining room table, but with three cats and four dogs, we decided that the lifespan of silk flowers would be maybe an hour. Live plants wouldn't make it ten minutes.
I would also like here to take a moment to tell you about Stormy.
Stormy is a largish gray feline of dubious bloodline who owns the dogs and would probably bark if she could figure out how. When my sister puts things onto the cabinets to keep them out of reach of the dogs, Stormy will bound onto the cabinet when not watched, and nose/bat/push or otherwise move those things to the floor so that the dogs CAN get them.
Stormy is very protective of her dogs and would prefer playtime with them over playing with the other cats in the house.
The dogs, naturally, are very happy with this arrangement. These aren't canines of the Lassie-genius variety. They are short furballs that will fight to the death over treats called Greenies (my sister calls them puppy crack and if you'd ever seen these dogs' reaction, you'd probably agree.) But they know to be nice to Stormy.
Of course that might also be attributed to the fact that Stormy can kick their furry little butts.
Stormy is also the house alarm clock. She dutifully walked across my face every morning at the same time. She apparently has learned that on weekends, the appropriate time is not 5:30am. She was polite enough to wait until it was a reasonable hour before using my nose, mouth, and cheeks as a stationary kitty treadmill.
Stormy will attempt to climb or jump to anything, the higher the better. When Sister moved a room-sized rug from her computer room so that she could scrub the hard flooring beneath, she set the rolled-up rug on its end in the corner of the living room.
Stormy was roving from the back of a kitchen chair to the back of the sofa (which is much lower,) her eye glued to the topmost point of the rug. She'll be the first cat in space if NASA ever allows a feline accompaniment to a space shuttle crew. She will quite literally go to the highest point in the house that she can reach.
Besides the rug-capades, she discovered the window opening I cleared between the kitchen and the computer room and proceded to stretch nearly its whole length, proclaiming it for the Grand Republic of Stormy.
The computer room is a built-on at the back of my Sis's house. Prior to the addition, there must have been a fairly large window over the kitchen sink, overlooking the back yard. After the room was added on, the window became an open space that's a good 48-55" up from the back room's floor. That made it perfect height for Stormy to reign over her domain from on high.
I have to call it a night shortly and turn in for bed, but at this point I'm still working on my ultimate locale after leaving this place. I made a couple of phone calls tonight; we shall see where things go from here. I was sighing, spied a car tonight that looked pretty good, was for sale for $1595. Of course I don't have $1595 at the moment. And while I may well have that much when it's time for me to go, I can't spend so much on a car that I won't have gas money to get where I'm going and to put gas in until I can get a paycheck.
Oh yeah, and there's this bad habit I have of eating. I really gotta quit that, but for the moment I'm really addicted to the practice. Not sure how well I'll do going cold turkey, either, particularly when it cuts out the turkey, too.
Doubtful that vehicle will still be there when it's time for me to go, anyway. But hey - it's a thought.
Sis and I did have a good laugh, several times over. She and I were complaining about (hcatty and sis, cover your eyes now) the lack of good quality female porn. She went through the same thing I did with my ex before he died. We figured if our so-called better halves wanted to have porn in the house, we should accommodate and share the wealth. All that achieved, in both our cases, was to garner accusations of cheating. Well, that and the subsequent discovery of toys.
Note to other females: don't bother with the average porn movie. If you want to watch something obscene, just take a look at the cable bill after a husband's pornocopia, also known as the horny-o-plenty, the time in a man's life that specifically excludes you.
Mind you, I have no serious objections to someone watching/reading porn, as long as it's not used as an excuse to avoid a normal, healthy real-life relationship. I know that a lot of women believe it's degrading and encourages men to look at women exclusively as sex objects. I don't object when my man sees me that way in the bedroom. If it's carried to the workplace, it's a different matter, but I think most men are saavy enough to know the difference. If not, there are countless ways to get the message across, not the least of which is through the wallet.
Yes, ideally both people should be in love. I don't pretend to understand everything about the male species, but I do know that for a man, a strictly emotional attachment isn't ever going to be enough. There has to be physical affection or he will not feel loved, period.
Guys, you're more than welcome to correct me if I'm wrong. I'm going by what psychologists documented and guys I know have said.
Just my 2-cents worth, with an instant rebate.
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )