National Cat Day

Today is National Cat Day and in honor of that I thought I'd share a valuable lesson about the difference between dogs and cats that I recently learned.

Here's what happened:

I went out of town for a few days last week to watch my nephew play football and visit with my family.

However, the animals had very different reactions to my return home.  I walked in the door and the dogs went, in a word, bonkers.  They were running around, jumping up and down and barking out a veritable litany of joy. Which, thanks to my amazing animal communication skills, I can translate here:

"You're home! You're home! You're home!" Bubba shouted. "You left and then you came back and this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to any dog EVER!"

"You're home!" Sassy agreed. "You're home and we should celebrate! With treats! And belly rubs! TREATS AND BELLY RUBS FOR EVERYONE!"

Pipsqueak Meow, though, was much more restrained. He meandered over to see what all the fuss was about then deliberately turned his back and sauntered into the bedroom. "I didn't even realize you were gone," he said.

He continued to ignore me for the rest of the afternoon, until we sat down to watch a little television.  Then he ran out, flung himself on Opie and began a litany of his own.

"Do you know who I love? THIS GUY! I love him with a love that's more than love! I love sitting on his lap, I love rubbing against his face. I love him! And you know why? Because he never leaves, that's why."

"He leaves to go to work every day," I pointed out.

But Pipsqueak Meow is the Earl Landgrene of cats: He doesn't want anyone to confuse him with the facts.

"I love him," he continued. "He is not a leaver. He is not an abandoner of kitties. He doesn't disappear without permission or explanation for days at a time. He stays where he is supposed to be and I LOVE HIM FOR IT!"

"I thought you didn't even realize I was gone."

"NO ONE'S TALKING TO YOU, FOOD LADY!" He yelled.

For the rest of the night, he would take occasional breaks from showering Opie with love to come over and sit near me on the couch but I'm pretty sure that was just so he could continue to give me "the cold paw." By which I mean he would  sit a few feet away, close enough that I could pet him but no so close that anyone would confuse what was happening with kitty cuddling.

But he saved the big guns until two in the morning when he decided to once again illustrate his displeasure by deliberately stomping across my face.

"Oh, so sorry," he said when I jerked awake and shoved him off. "I didn't realize anyone was using this pillow; it's been empty for days."

"Get off me, you ridiculous cat!"

"Question: are you at all interested in seeing a trick I learned in the last few days?"

"Does the trick involve SLEEPING? Because it's TWO IN THE MORNING!"

And he allowed that the trick would, in fact, work better if I was sleeping.  "Just relax," he said soothingly, jumping off the bed.  "Close your eyes...Pay no attention to the cat on the floor...Pay not attention to the cat under the bed."

This must have lulled me into a sense of false security and (or maybe just because it was TWO IN THE MORNING!!) I started to fall back asleep.

Which is when Pipsqueak bellycrawled to the foot of the bed like a Ninja kitty, clawed his way up the bedskirt, managed to wriggle under the cover and POUNCED on my feet in whirlwind of claws, teeth and ferocious meows.

What followed was a similar whirlwind of shouts, cursing, sprays of water and flung blankets...and more Ninja kitty moves as he flung himself off the bed and raced over to the top of the dog crate in the corner.

"I don't suppose you'd believe there was a monster under the covers?" Pip asked.

"You are a lying liar of a cat!"

"I saved your life."

"You're a ridiculous, lying liar of a cat and if you ever do that again, I'm going to freaking lose it, do you understand me?"

"You're welcome."

Still muttering angrily, I flopped back down and tried to go back to sleep, bracing myself for another onslaught of feline foolishness. But, as always, he seemed to sense my breaking point. He trotted back over, jumped into bed and snuggled next to Sassy and me, purring contentedly.

"Just promise you'll never leave again," he said.

And I still don't know how to break it to him that we're going on vacation soon!

I Love The Word Bacchanal

Now that all the drama of Skin Cancer Recovery has died down, you all will be pleased to know that the drama of my everyday life has perked back up…and not just because we got our ridiculous cat. Mostly because weird things seem to happen to me in locations that shouldn’t be weird.

For example, you would think one place that would be somewhat drama-free would be the gym.

It is interesting to note that, if you did think this, you were horribly wrong.

The gym SHOULD be a drama free sanctuary where you can exercise and feel good about your dedication to physical fitness…even if the fruits of that dedication are noticeably and constantly sabotaged by your equal devotion to chocolate and wine.

And, to be honest, the gym itself and the pool where I swim laps usually is a sweet nest of serenity. It’s the gym locker room that presents difficulties.

Because the gym locker room is filled with women, of all ages and sizes, who clearly don’t share my body image issues.

By which I mean they prance around the locker room as bare-assed naked as nymphs at a Bacchanal. 

Actual footage of my
gym locker room.

I, on the other hand, do NOT prance around the locker room in this fashion. After swimming, I wrap my body and my hair in two separate towels, put on my cover up and wander into the locker room steadfastly averting my gaze from the sea of naked surrounding me and assaulting my eyes at every turn. 

Today, though, as I made my way to my locker, stepping between 2 ladies older than my mom, got my stuff out, and began heading back to the shower area, I dropped a flip flop.

Doesn't seem like that big of a deal, does it?

All I did was drop a flip flop.

But as I leaned down to pick it up, one of the ladies took a misstep, half-tripped, took 2 or 3 steps back and basically STUCK HER BUTT IN MY FACE! 

That's right, there I was in the locker room, BARE ASS flying at my face...and I would have been fully BUTT-FACED, except, of course, months of protecting my nose from injury have given me my ninja skills and cat-like quickness.  I flung myself--especially my FACE--out of the direction of her descending derriere, which made me body-slam myself into the other older lady like Kelly Chase in his glory days (she had managed to get some underwear on by then, thank God), and somehow flop down onto the bench between us. 

And did the Butt-Facer apologize?

NO!

She was too busy fussing over the other woman that I crashed  into...like this whole mess was MY fault, like I should have just let myself be ASSaulted (see what I did there?) without a care in the world.

I may never get over it. I'll have nightmares about butt-facing for years. I might need therapy...or at least lots of wine.

In any case, the point of this story is, my life is as dramatic as it ever was, my ninja skills are top shelf, and if any of you are planning to join a gym in order to get a jump on a New Year’s Resolution, BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU PUT YOUR FACE.

(PS: Because I like to give credit where credit is due, I want to note that the painting above is by French artist Jean-Baptiste Marie Pierre.)

Curiosity Killed The Cat

Curiosity killed the cat.

No this is not a horribly tragic blog explaining that Pipsqueak Meow has been killed in some bizarre accident. He’s alive and well.

For now.

To be blunt, I can’t swear there will never be a horribly tragic blog explaining that Pipsqueak Meow has met an untimely end because it’s entirely possible curiosity will, in fact, kill this cat.

I don’t know if it’s because I work at home now and the last time I had a kitten, the unforgettable Princeton P Kitty, I was out of the house during the day so I didn’t witness all the crazy shenanigans going on or if (as I’m beginning to suspect) this cat is trying to send me over the edge.

Our day usually starts with usual cat behavior – he tries to stick his face in my coffee, he flings himself all over the bed while I’m making it, he insists he should be able to eat the dogs’ food…all completely normal.

But then the curiosity kicks in and that’s when things start to go downhill.  Like today when I tried to get a few things done before I started work and our conversation went like this:

Pip: Have you ever wondered what would happen if you jumped on the robo-vacuum while it’s zooming around in a very enticing fashion?

(It is interesting to note that I don’t actually believe the cat talks to me, I’m not a complete whack job…but I’m pretty sure I can read his little mind).

Me: What are you doing?! Stop that, stop it right now!

Pip: Don’t mind me, I’m just performing a little experiment. I want to see what happens when you POUNCE like THIS on the vacuum!

I rescue the vacuum, distract the cat with a toy and try to continue my morning routine.  At which time he turns into a toddler…a toddler with a thousand questions and claws.

Pip: What’s that? Is it coffee? I like coffee! Can I have some coffee, can I , can I? Hey, did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? Did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? Did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? I like strings! Strings taste awesome! Did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? Where did the coffee go? What are you doing now? Putting things in dishwasher? Do you need help? Did you get food off the plates? Do you want me to jump in the dishwasher and make sure? Hey, what about that coffee?

 

At this point, I guzzle coffee with reckless abandon, certain that caffeine is the only thing keeping me sane.

A few hours later, while I’m fixing myself lunch, Pip starts up again: You know that dog you got me, the big one?

Me: He is NOT your dog, he’s been living here longer than you have—

Pip: The big one, the one I named The Bub. Do you think I’m faster than he is?

Me: Pip! Leave The Bub alone!

Pip: I bet I’m faster than he is. We should race.

ME: LEAVE THE BUB ALONE!!

Pip runs over and challenges Bubba to a race…by which I mean he bit Bubba on the tail and ran to the top of the cat tree as fast as he could.

Bubba, who is incredibly patient with this small obnoxious animal, barks once and moves to a different doggy bed.

Pip: Well, I’m definitely a faster sprinter than he is. But I wonder how we’d do in a longer challenge…like a race all around the house. I wonder how many times I need to bite him on the tail to get him to actually chase me a little.

ME (punctuating each word with profanity too offensive to post here): GET AWAY FROM BUBBA! I WILL LET HIM BITE YOU, I MEAN IT!

Pip (slinking ever closer): You don’t understand. I don’t WANT to bite him on the tail, I’m just doing a little research into canine psychology. I need to see what happens when you jump on a dog’s tail like THIS!

In case you’re wondering, I have no idea who would have won the race around the house that started then because I managed to snatch Pip up and – as the cat behavior books advise – put him in the guest bathroom for a timeout to consider his many sins while I tried to enjoy the last 10 minutes of my break.

Unfortunately, the cat behavior books fail to mention that some cats enjoy timeout because they can pull the weird little cover off those bolts on the bottom of the toilet and bat it around the small room like a soccer player.

He did, at least, pretend to be repentant…I let him out of the bathroom, he meows plaintively, rubs against my legs, pretends to be adorable....then slowly starts slinking across the couch toward Sassy.

Pip: I just want to do a little experiment—hey! What’s going on? Put me down, food lady, put me down!

I dump him on top of the cat tree and try again to finish eating while he plays for almost five whole seconds before running back over to jump on my lap.

Pip: Question: are you at all interested in seeing how fast I can run up and down the stairs?

Me: No

Pip: I’m pretty fast.

Me: I believe you, I don’t need to--

Pip leaps from my lap, runs up the stairs at top speed, runs around office with the heavy footsteps of a much larger cat, then runs back down.

Pip: See? And that wasn’t even my best time! I’m way faster than that!

Pip proceeds to run up and down stairs three more times. I begin wondering aloud if someone slipped illicit drugs in the kitty kibble.

Which is when Sassy decides to butt in on the conversation: I’m pretty fast too—

Pip: This fast?

Sassy: Maybe!

And they both run up and down the stairs at top speed. And Pip did win, though, to be fair, that’s partially because he used Sassy as a springboard to fling himself in the air over her and leap down the last three stairs in one fell swoop.

Sassy, furious at this blatant foul, demands to be placated with treats while Pip struts around living room, confident he has set the land speed record for five pound felines. And not at all concerned that he has essentially cheated in this race.

Pip, jumping up next to me: I told you I was fast.

Me: Yes, very impressive.

Pip You know how fast I am? Fast enough to run across the countertop and stick my face in your soup LIKE THIS before you can even grab the spray bottle!

The next few seconds are an incredible whirlwind of shouting, cursing, barking, meowing and spraying water…some of which actually lands on the cat, though not enough to deter him.

He proceeds to run around the house again, leaps up on the dining room table into the box that was just delivered, insists he’s not technically on the table if he’s in the box, jumps back out of the box, runs back into the bedroom and slides under the bed like a baseball player stealing home.

I storm around angrily, waving my hands in the air and shouting horrible threats in his general direction…then finally sit down to start work again and he comes out, curls up in my lap and promptly falls asleep.

Which might be the only reason he’s still alive.

Another Mysterious Mystery

The annual selfie!

As some of you may know, there’s a very mysterious mystery that has been mystifying people in Joplin, MO since 1836 : The Ghost Lights!

What are ghost lights?

Strange balls of light that appear suddenly upon a darkened highway known as The Devil’s Promenade bounce around and just as suddenly disappear.

No one actually knows what the light is, where it comes from, or—apparently—where they really show up because they’re called The Joplin Ghost Lights but the road they appear on is actually just across the border in Oklahoma.

Enough people have seen these lights over the years that the Army Corps of Engineers actually came out to investigate. They couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on, unless people were seeing the reflection of lights from passing cars on a highway a few miles away.

Which just goes to show you that, although I have a great deal of respect for the Army Corps of Engineers, they must not be careful readers because, once again, the lights have been appearing since 1836.

Not a lot of cars bopping around in 1836.

Unless, now that I think of it, the Army Corps of Engineers was trying to hint that there was some sort of weird TIME PORTAL that cars are driving through…or getting caught in…getting caught in and endlessly traveling down The Devil’s Promenade, trying to lure unsuspecting travelers to the same horrible fate…

Kind of glad I didn’t come up with THAT theory while Eric and I were driving The Devil’s Promenade last weekend or I might have completely freaked out.

Because, yes, you guessed it, The Hadley – Yates Vacation this year was Joplin, Missouri to investigate the mysterious mystery of the ghost lights.

Though I have to be honest, the first mysterious mystery that mystified us was the exact location of The Devil’s Promenade. Because, as I’ve said before, Eric and I are not what you would call navigational geniuses. And it might surprise you to know that these are not the type of locations easily found on Google Maps. I’m also shocked to report that the kind of websites that give you directions to ghost lights can be a little…well…can I say sketchy?

In fact on our first sojourn to The Devil’s Promenade Friday night, our directions said we needed to follow Highway 86 for a couple of miles to Highway BB then turn on Gum Road. And we never found Highway 86 or BB…though we did find Highway 43 which I reasoned was half of 86 and therefore likely to take us to the same place.

I will now pause for my husband Opie, my mom, and other logically minded folks to yell things like “Are you out of your damn minds?!”

And I won’t even gloat when I tell you that this plan actually worked –we found Gum Road and Highway 51 and the alleged Devil’s Promenade (also known as Spirit Light Road)

Did we find the Ghost Lights of Joplin?

I don’t know…we saw lots of lights. Some of which could have been the reflection of car lights on another highway a few miles away, some that could have been radio towers in the distance, a couple that could have been enormous mutant fireflies (Or Fireflies of Unusual Size if you’re a Princess Bride fan) but we didn’t see anything that could definitively been called ghost lights.

I can tell you that we were chagrined (mostly because I like the word chagrin and try to use it whenever I can) but not defeated. We went back to Joplin, where we were staying at the same garage apartment Bonnie and Clyde hid out for several weeks in 1933 and were immediately mystified with another mysterious mystery. Specifically, what is the name of this piece of furniture:

Is it a divan (that was my guess…but, again, mostly because I like the word divan)? Is it a chaise lounge (that was Eric’s guess…and, though he wouldn’t admit it, I suspect he just likes the word chaise)? After a lot of Internet research (and, to be honest, a lot of wine) we were actually more mystified as it could also be a Davenport, a settee, or even a Chesterfield.

Anyone know?? It’s seriously sending me right over the edge.

In any case, Eric and I are not the kind of investigators who let these kind of things distract us. We are the kind of investigators who go to the Joplin Museum Complex to do more research, find this rather sad display:

 

Seriously, this was in an actual MUSEUM.

and then get distracted by one of the most random collections of alleged artifacts I’ve ever seen. Like the creepy china doll collection…or the circus collection of things from circuses in other cities…or the Cookie Cutter Collection...like I said, random.

Got this little gem  FREE at the National
Cookie Cutter  Museum -- vintage clown! Jealous, aren't you?

We’re also the kind of investigators who get distracted by the fact that we are somewhat near the exact spot where Missouri, Kansas, and Oklahoma intersect and we could go there and—after a literal TWO HOUR search—drink a toast to 20 years of vacations in THREE STATES AT ONCE.  I won’t bore you with all the details of this epic journey, I’ll just say it involved a few of signs like this one,

more than a little swearing and a few shouts of things like “We’re off the map, how in hell did we get off the map?!” and “Are you freaking kidding me, are we back in Oklahoma?” It also involved a few selfies where we laughed like little kids about being in separate states even though we were in the same car,

I'm in Kansas and Eric's in Missouri!

a teeny-tiny bit of what some people call trespassing but we prefer to think of as exploring, and a slightly disconcerting trip down a gravel road just north of a buffalo preserve.

But we found it, that’s the point!

Feeling suitably fortified by success, we decided to go back to our hotel, fortify ourselves with more wine, then sleep until 11:00 and go back out to The Devil’s Promenade.

And, for those of you who are shaking your heads and saying things like “Remember when we were young and pre-partied at someone’s house and didn’t even hit the bars until 11:00?” I would just like to remind you that in our misspent youth, Eric and I actually used to go out to the bars really early when you didn’t have to wait in line for a drink and we could OWN the dance floor. When the rest of you people showed up, we started talking about going home.

But I digress..

We set the alarm, stumbled around grumbling at each other until we got our hands on some coffee, and drove back out.

Did we see the lights?

Again, I don’t know.  We saw SOMETHING.  And when we got back and took a closer look at the pictures, we saw that we had one with what could very well be a Ghost Light in the upper corner left hand corner…it’s not in the direction of the other highway, it wasn’t a radio tower…we don’t know what it was.

So, we are still mystified by the mysterious mystery in Joplin, we still don’t know the name of that weird piece of furniture, we still struggle with basic directions but I think we have a pretty clear understanding why neither of our spouses ever want to come on our annual trip!

Vacation 2019 -- A Little Preview!

Well, summer has just officially faded into fall and I bet that means the same question just popped into everyone’s minds: How come I haven’t heard anything about Eric and Kimberly’s annual vacation?

Which means the next thought that popped into everyone’s minds is “Wait, I don’t remember reading about their vacation LAST summer…or the summer BEFORE THAT…FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, PLEASE DON’T TELL ME THAT THEY’VE GIVEN UP THIS FABULOUS TRADITION OR—WORSE YET—I’VE MISSED THOSE POSTS!!”

Which further means that you’re all braced to start frantically searching through this blog, desperately searching for the any sign of travel tales.

(It is interesting to note that I might have an overblown sense of my importance in your lives.)

In any case, fear not, Eric and I have not given up our annual sojourn into the silly side of life. I, apparently, just haven’t been writing about our trips. And I don’t have time to write about them all now but, rest assured, they’ve been as nutty as ever!  For example, 2 years ago we made a return trip to Roswell, New Mexico for the International UFO Festival. And while it was less dramatic than our first trip there 15 years ago (when we might or might not have trespassed on private government property), it was still chock full of crazy. We saw people who were literally wearing tinfoil hats or fairy wings or both.

 We once again spoke to The Alien Hunter (who told me my questions about alien abduction were, and I quote EXCELLENT). We met Travis Walton (famous alleged alien abduction victim). And, far best of all, we got to witness a rather heated diatribe by a woman who was furious that the Convention wasn’t giving more attention to the Reptoid Plot of World Domination.

Reptoids, for those of you who don’t vacation with UFO enthusiasts, are an ancient alien race of reptiles that are able to shapeshift into human forms and have infiltrated every powerful family in the WORLD. They are here to take over the Earth—and possibly the entire universe—because they enjoy feeding on and breeding with humans.

There’s a very complicated explanation involving the shadow government, the Rockefellers, the British Royal Family and any number of US celebrities but, according to the 2 books I bought dissecting this phenomenon, I am one of the many “sheeple” of the world, too blind to understand the danger.

Good times, my fellow sheeple, good times.

My point is, yes we still take our trip every year. And, although we didn’t go this summer, we’re going next weekend. Why so much later than usual?

For three main reasons:

1.     

  Uhhh, have you been reading the blog? Skin cancer and a new house, sheeple! I’ve been busy.

2.       Our original destination – a ghost hunt at the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City, MO – was hit by a tornado earlier in the year and the event was cancelled.

3.       There was a slight discrepancy between the vacation weekend on MY calendar and the one marked on Eric’s.

I maintain that when Eric visited this summer to help with the new house, we picked September 13^th as the weekend and he just doesn’t remember.  Eric maintains that we talked about September 13^th but landed on the 27^th as a better option and I just don’t remember…Opie maintains that Eric and I drink too much when we’re making plans and he’s surprised anyone remembers anything.

I’m pretty sure that’s his way of saying he’s on Team Kimbo and just doesn’t want to hurt Eric’s feelings.

Luckily for Eric, I was able to rearrange my schedule because, although one can search for the mysterious ghost lights that travel down an abandoned highway known as The Devil’s Promenade pretty much any time one wants, it’s harder to book a night in the garage apartment where Bonnie and Clyde hid from the police than you might think.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg for our weekend plans but if history teaches us anything, I think we can expect a lot of laughs, a few ghosts, and way too much alcohol.

I just hope we don’t run into any reptoids because the abovementioned books were so confusing, I still have no idea how to fight them off.

If you want to hear about some of our earlier vacations, feel free to check out any of the links below:

Scariest Vacation – The Villisca, Iowa Axe Murder House

The First Trip to Roswell

Why You Shouldn't Be Annoying When You're On A Ghost Hunt -- The Eldred House

The Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast

The Time We Literally Set a Guiness World Record

6 Month Milestone

It's been a long 6 months of  surgery, sock photos, more surgery, more sock photos, moving, more sock photos and even more sock photos.  But I think it's time for a photo montage and big reveal!

Before: 

During:

This is the day of the surgery -- and the plastic surgeon actually suggested that I wear the snot-catching nose guard thing 24/7 for the next 2 weeks. Newflash: I didn't.

The morning  after the surgery -- this, by the way, was the day the doctor warned me repeatedly not to have sex...though how he thought Opie could resist my animal magnetism, I'll never know.

A couple weeks in...when the flap was "feeling badly!" 

I, on the other hand, was a beaming ball of sunshine.

The next surgery, aka The Unflapping!

Then slowly on the mend....

Now, six months down the road (drumroll please!):

Lots of scar cream, not a small amount of make up, a new haircut and very forgiving lighting...but looking like me again!