File this under...

"This Could Only Happen to Me."

I think I broke my little toe.

On a cat.

Before you go thinking I somehow drop-kicked a cat, let me just say, no cats were hurt in the breaking of my toe.

Yesterday morning I was walking down the hall towards my bedroom. Stepped into the bedroom - suddenly little Hazel came zooming by me and did that cat-thing where they crouch and then leap. She did this just as I was moving my left foot forward.

I still don't understand how this is at all possible, but apparently just as she did her crouch thing, my little toe connected with the bone in her backwards-knee position...is any of this making sense?

Anyway - she didn't seem to feel anything, and has acted perfectly normal ever since. In that 8-month old kitten perfectly normal way...leaping, flying around corners, nosing into things she shouldn't.

Meanwhile my little toe has been a deep dark purplish-red for over 24 hours and is sore to the touch. I'm just guessing but I think it's broken.

This could only happen to me.

The Vault

I have a habit that embarrasses Darling Daughter. Wait, who am I trying to kid? She's 13 - everything I do embarrasses her.

But this particular habit is that when I get out of the car to pump my own gas, and I swipe my credit card through the pump card reader, I put my credit card into my bra, and then start pumping gas. I usually forget it's there and then go to the store and think I've lost my card.

Hey, I'm middle-aged, gravity has already taken it's toll - it may as well be good for SOMETHING. Heck, I could stick a can of soda in there and smuggle it into the theater. But not chocolate. That would melt and make a mess.

I thought I was the only one who did this. My daughter has certainly made it clear that I'm a freak in this regard.

Then we had an event at the church, and I was approached by a visitor (a woman) who asked me for a phone number. I gave her my answer - and she wrote it down and TUCKED IT INTO HER BRA. (I was standing there at that precise moment with a credit card tucked into my OWN bra.)

Just then another women from church walked by and I asked her if I had given the correct phone number. "Hold on, let me check," she said, as she PULLED HER CELL PHONE OUT FROM HER BRA.

Now I have a new name for my bra. I call it THE VAULT.

Honorably Mentioned

I'm quite honored (places hand on heart, demurely looks through lowered eyelashes) to be mentioned on Simply Nutmeg's blog as someone she thinks she could have a good chat with. I think so too. Simply Nutmeg cracks me up...plus...chatting is one of the things I do best!

[Quick Quiz...which came first...Me or THE DOLL? ]




[Answer: ME! But only by ONE YEAR. And yes, I did have my own Chatty Cathy doll when I was young.]

Thank you for the lovely compliment, Nutmeg!

Just Another Lazy Day Me

I hate to be the one to break it to you younger moms in your late 30's/early 40's, but the difference between age 40 and age 50 is huge. HUGE. And it surprised the heck out of me.

Most birthdays haven't bothered me. The only birthday I remember feeling blue about was my 3oth. I wore all black to work that day, and told everyone I was in mourning for my youth. God, I was so young and foolish!

The difference between 2o and 30 wasn't too great. Maybe I was more inclined to get a hangover if I drank too much. But physically I was in better shape and lower weight at 30 than at 20. (Maybe because I lost approximately 170 pounds of ex-husband...ya think?)

I had a lot of life changes in my 30's. I moved across the country; I remarried; I had my one and only child. I was afraid that my 40th birthday would be depressing but in fact it was rather exhilerating. I was amazed at how FREEING it felt. And I was still in pretty good shape, physically.

Now here I sit, on the cusp of 50, and I realize I am the laziest woman on the planet. I really should own about a tenth of the items I actually do, because I have no energy or interest in cleaning or dusting them.

Hubs is sleeping, having spent the last two days at work (after surgery on Monday - I knew he was overdoing it by going back too soon). Darling Daughter is off to the mall with her BFF. It's a beautiful sunny day, but other than a few loads of laundry I have spent most of the day on my butt laptop.

The garden is full of weeds, my house is full of clutter. I have a million "I should be doing _______" sentences running through my head. Yep, I really should. My mother, who is seventy-mumble-mumble years old, has more energy and gets more accomplished than me. I feel like my own lazy teenager.

But here I sit, surrounded by three sleeping cats who are putting the idea of a nap into my head.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go switch my laundry loads....yawn....snort....zzzzzzzz.

Dreamgirls

On the outside I may appear to be a fat, middle-aged white woman with thinning hair.


But inside, I am a tall, thin, graceful young black woman with a killer voice.

Rainy Days and Mondays

Today was both.

My energy level is directly tied to weather. On a sunny day I'm out of bed, rarin' to go, and I get so much accomplished! But a dark, rainy day and I'm a slug. No amount of caffeine will jump start me.

I lived my first 25 years in the state of Oregon. Rain Central. Rain is such a part of life in Oregon that the two major universities have water creatures as mascots...

I don't remember feeling lethargic on rainy days growing up. Of course I had youth on my side. But still. When you live with rain as a part of daily life, it becomes a non-issue.

Maybe it's a symptom of middle age. Maybe it's part of menopause. I don't really know - but a day like today and I feel like I'm slogging through Jello.

What's discouraging is that rain is predicted all week! I don't stand a chance.

In keeping with the theme of this post, I offer you this - sing along if you wish!

My TV Boyfriend

I like to walk on the wild side...

Idea stolen from Latte Mommy.