Filed under: Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: Cats, dogs, holiday, Pets, travel, vacation
Thanks for taking care of the babies and the house! Here’s what you need to know:
The Cats:
We have 3 cats (because we’re stupid), but usually only 2 of them hang out at the house:
Izzy is our 14 yr. old weird orange tabby. She’s very vocal, so don’t be surprised if you find her nagging you to feed, water or be her personal slave in every way. This is usually indicated by a bitchy-sounding meow or by her repeatedly slipping her head under your hand as you try to work on your computer.
Kiwi is the long-haired, gray tabby. She’s the in-house terrorist, taking swipes at you as you walk by and plotting your death. She truly believes that when she stares at you she is stealing a portion of your soul and selling it to the Devil – it might be true. The vet is scared of her – just feed her and back away.
Escobar is the black male. He’s super friendly to people and loves to lay around on his back and show you his junk. He’s also an asshole to Izzy, especially when he’s hungry. Escobar wanders the neighborhood looking for…c’mon, that’s too easy. He occasionally graces us with his presence when none of the neighborhood cats are in heat. He’s our neighborhood’s version of Barney from How I Met Your Mother. Don’t be surprised if you don’t see him at all.
Food and Water: Izzy and Kiwi get one scoop of dry food 2x a day. Escobar gets the same when he shows up, but it’s like going on a date – don’t put out unless you’re ready to use it. The cats get fresh water in their bowl when I remember, but Izzy usually drinks out of Larry the Fish’s bowl anyway, and Escobar never really learned how to drink successfully out of a bowl – I can’t even explain how ridiculous he looks when he tries. Kiwi drinks out of the toilet – don’t ask. I think it was part of her ISIS training.
Meds: Izzy gets a half Zyrtec in the morning. She has allergies, so her lips get really fat like Angelina Jolie and it makes her scratch. That’s also why her stomach is completely bald. There is something so sad (and hilarious) when she sits on the kitchen floor and her bald tummy rests on the tile like Jaba the Hut, or when she compulsively licks, muttering to herself, “So bald, so pretty!”
Cat Litter: I’ll change it before we go. There are two boxes – one in the downstairs bathroom and one in the hallway upstairs. I usually scoop the funk out every couple of days into plastic grocery bags (Reduce! Reuse! Recycle!). If it’s really nasty, feel free to just dump the whole thing into a trash bag and put it in the outside bin. Just don’t be like me and forget to add more litter to the box – that doesn’t end well.
Larry the Fish:
There’s no reason Larry should still be alive, so don’t worry if anything happens (he’s like 5 years old and came in a Ziploc from Field Day of the Past). He gets a small pinch of food every day.
The Dogs:
Disclaimer: You said you wanted to do this!
We have 2 dogs.
Lily is the strange brown hound that is terrified of everyone. We’re pretty sure she was Rufied when she was a puppy, and never had therapy to deal with it. She won’t walk through any door except the one off the deck, and will lurk around the corner looking like she wants to come in until you open the door. Then she’ll disappear faster than America’s middle class. But also like the middle class, she’s perfectly happy to ignore the world around her and snuggle on the couch watching Dancing with the Stars.
Holly is an attention whore and a klepto. She loves people and cars – so much so that she will jump into moving cars through the open window. Then she’ll take your stuff as she exits the car, and all you’ll find are chewed up bits all over the yard. She also eats packages delivered to the house, so please sure they are picked up immediately. So far, our running total of delivery destruction is around $700 – that includes two prom dresses we ordered for sizing purposes only. If you know anyone who might want them, they’re hanging in the laundry room. I’m told the kids are now wearing clothes with holes in them.
They can go outside during the day. There is an electric fence (it was so cute that we thought that would keep them in). Our neighbors have taken pity on us and when the dogs escape, frequently leave our wayward girls in the driveway like a bad one night stand.
The Pool:
Enjoy! If you can clean out the skimmer basket every couple of days that would be great – usually there’s just frogs, spiders and beetles in there. Sometimes there’s a snake or two, but not to worry, they’re more scared of you then you are of them. Ha! That’s such bullshit! I’m hate them and call Hubby to come get them out. You’re on your own there. I dump the skimmer critters out in the grass over the fence. The dogs LOVE that.
Oh yeah – I threw in enough chlorine in there to give your face a chemical peel. Enjoy your week of being wrinkle-free.
Other:
Plants: Good luck. They’ve sucked all summer.
TV: We have Xfinity for cable purposes. Turn the TV on using the large remotes (either one will do). Ignore the other remotes sitting around – I’m pretty sure they’re just dog toys at this point and that they don’t work any of the electronics in the house anymore, but SOME PEOPLE won’t throw anything away. All other TV questions – ask Hubby. I have no idea how any of that shit works.
Internet: We live in the country. It’s often slow or doesn’t work at all. Read a book.
So there you have it – feel free to call us if you have any questions and have a great week!
Filed under: Exercise, Food/Drink, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts, Travel | Tags: Cats, dogs, drinking, Exercise, health, hiking, Middle-Age, Outlander, resolutions, Scotland, travel, yoga
(Not that any of you should even remotely care what my resolutions are this year, I thought maybe you could use some ideas.)
Dear Self –
Learn to pay in cash – not only will you save money, but the super-annoying “Remove Card” buzzer when using the debit card will no longer send you over the edge in Food Kitty
Do yoga in the living room – just because it humiliates you that Sting’s 
wife is 63 years old and can twist herself like a pretzel is no excuse for you not doing her yoga DVD that you spent $20 on
Sleep more – that means stop playing Candy Crush in bed – you’re the only person on the planet who’s still doing it
Stop playing games on phone…except at stop lights…and while watching tv…and while waiting for the fam to go anywhere…and while Hubby’s driving…
Write more family-friendly blogs
Start anonymous blog page so you can write about the fam
Save money for hiking trip in Scotland (a.k.a. satisfy Outlander fetish)
Run a 10k
Run a 5k
Walk every day
Walk once a week
Hike once a month to train for hiking trip in Scotland
Drink only on weekends…or when out socially…or after a really, really crappy day at work…or when the cats pee in the house…or when the recipe requires wine…
Stop cooking with recipes requiring wine
Be nicer to the dogs
Be nicer to the cats
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Parenting | Tags: adulthood, Cats, dog toys, dogs, family, humor, Lily, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, Pets, puppies, rescue dogs, south, southern, SPCA, subourbonmom
We have a house full of cats, (by that I mean we have three, which makes any house smell like there’s a cat hoarding situation going on – call Animal Planet), 
and I’m not a fan. Hubby and the Daughters each have a cat that loves them – I am merely the House Staff that is tolerated. I have been relegated to taking care of Larry The Fish – who, let’s face it, isn’t exactly stimulating company.
I wanted a dog.
So our latest acquisition, quickly falling under the “What were we thinking?” category, is our new “free” dog, Lily. Lily is a rescue, and she’s everything I said I didn’t want when we first decided to get a dog: she’s a puppy, not housebroken, and high-energy. I’ve since been informed that what I really wanted was a housebroken sloth.
We’re pretty sure Lily’s never been in a house before, walked on a leash, or hung out with people…ever. She’s terrified of just about everything except other dogs. In the 3 weeks we’ve had her she’s run away 3 times, decided that pooping inside is preferable to standing in the cold by the woodpile, and will only walk through the front door.
But we love her.
Ok, I love her. The rest of the jury is still out.
Which is why I found myself standing in the dog toy aisle in Wal-Mart, looking for something Lily might like to play with to get her mind off the Scary Box That Talks (the t.v.), the Scary Smaller Box That Talks (the radio), the Mean Cats, Scary Couch, Scary Pillows, Scary Kitchen, Scary Bathroom, etc. I’m a pretty firm believer that the same parental coping strategies can apply to dogs as to children – give them something to keep them busy so you can do the things you need to do.
So for the same reason I gave my kids questionable Mac-n-Cheese and off-brand Cheerios when they were little (they don’t know the difference and I’m cleaning up their poop anyway), I decided to go the cheap route and visit my local big-box store to get Lily some toys.
I stood in awe, looking at the range of wild animals and Muppet-like things that squeak, crackle, crinkle and smell like peanut butter. Some even looked disturbingly like sex toys. (My co-worker’s dag actually has this one, but she assures me it doesn’t come with batteries.) 
None of them were under $3.00, and none of them are any kind of off-brand, that I could tell. Um…just to be clear, this is something I’m buying for my dog to shake and chew on, right? What happened to just having your dog pull on an old sock?
So there I was, squeezing every toy like a toddler in one of those saucer things parents use to keep their child occupied while Mommy drinks her wine. I was obsessed. I couldn’t stop making those toys squeak and crackle over and over again, sending loud, annoying, fake mouse shrieks up and down the Pet section, and into Lighting and Paint. It was like scratching an itch – it was wrong, but it felt ooooh, soooo right.
In the end, I opted for a raccoon, a blue elephant and something that looks like a rat crossed with a parrot. Two days later, raccoon stuffing littered the dining room, and the elephant’s ear has gone missing – I’m pretty sure Lily ate it. I’m looking forward to seeing that on the dining room floor tomorrow morning.
But somehow Lily managed to worm her way quickly into my heart, and the Fam’s too. She always manages to redeem herself by putting herself in her crate when she’s been “bad”, or lying next to us (only slightly under duress) on the couch while we watch the Scary Box That Talks. But the next toy I buy will be a toy in the shape of a cat, with life-like meows…or I could go high-end, and just let her chase our actual cats.
Who’s the Staff now, little kitties?
(maniacal laughter fading….)
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Parenting, Posts, Travel | Tags: adulthood, animals, Cat Urine, Cats, cleaning, dogs, family, humor, Mean Girls, middle school, mom, Pee, Pets, south, southern, Spring Break, subourbonmom, travel
Coming back to reality after Spring Break—a snow storm in March (Are you kidding me?) naturally sucks. Coming home to find the cats have spite-peed on your daughter’s bed REALLY sucks.
And it’s also kind of funny, in a twisted way. Just stick with me on this one.
In my house, the pets have aligned themselves with family members. Hubby gets the psycho kitty we nursed from the time she was 3 days old; Daughter #2 has the beast in the barn; Daughter #1 gets Isabella FATrice (Izzy), our pudgy, orange cat who treats everyone like staff; and by default, I get The Dog. Never mind the fact that I’m the one who gets up at six EVERY MORNING to feed them and let them out. For the most part, they simply tolerate me.
If Izzy (the orange cat) were to be on the game Survivor, she would probably be voted out near the end—she’s a leader who gets things done by being vocal and acting like she’s in charge, but in the end, it’s The Dog who would win, because The Dog flies under the radar, also getting what she wants but without the attitude.
The Dog: note the super-soft blanket and matching manicure (thanks Aussie Pet Mobile!) as she lounges on my side of the couch.
For years I’ve been secretly jealous of Daughter #1 and her relationship with the princess pussycat. It is like being in middle school all over again. The popular girls (Daughter #1 and Izzy) hang out exclusively, draped all over each other, gossiping and messing with each other’s hair. If I come in with some silly request like, “Please take the sheets off your bed so I can wash them,” I am met with an irritated meow. Pushing up my glasses (these days they’re “cheaters”), I retreat to the unpopular kids’ table (i.e. my room) and sulk. I’m clearly the lowest creatures on the social totem pole in our house (except for maybe the fish). By asking Daughter #1 to move Izzy, I have clearly imposed my presence on the popular girls’ space.
See? She even looks like a Mean Girl!
But as I took a bath on our first night home to ease my quads that were still burning from all the Spring Break hiking and zip-lining, I heard Daughter #1 through the wall:
Daughter #1: “Oh my God! Mooooooooommm!”
Me: (silence—I was ignoring them—bath time is sacred)
Daughter #1: “You guys, come in here and look at this!” (thumping as Daughter #2 enters the room.)
Daughter #2 starts laughing.
Both Girls: “Moooooooom!” (still silent) “Daaaaaaaad!” (also wisely silent)
Me: (I sigh and get out of the tub, knowing the alternative is a visitor, and all the bubbles have gone—always awkward.)
When I got to Daughter #2’s room she is nearly in tears. Apparently, despite having a litter box handy the whole time we were gone, one or both of the cats spite-peed in her bed—a massive puddle that told me they’d been saving for at least a couple of days. (The Dog hd been farmed out to my mom’s.)
I looked at the clock—it was late, and I was NOT going back to the store. So, I looked on-line for what I could use in the house, and quickly made up the extra bed for Daughter #2. (I’ve copied the instructions below, in case anyone else ever has this issue—it worked!!)
The upside of the whole event was watching the Popular Girl drama play out over the next couple of days. Izzy was banned from Daughter #1’s presence, sitting outside the bedroom, meowing, looking miserable and triumphant at the same time, like the best friend of the popular girl who managed to steal the popular girl’s boyfriend—the victory was soooo worth the short-term social ostracism to follow. When that didn’t work, Izzy switched “besties” and went to Daughter #2’s room. She took to hanging out there, sleeping on Daughter #2’s stomach all night. Daughter #2 was happy enough to have the company, but she’s never needed approval from the popular crowd.
Even though Daughter #1 might not admit it, Izzy’s defection bugged her. Eventually, she relented, and Izzy was accepted back into the popular girl club’s good graces, trailing after Daughter #1 all day like a remora near a shark, making mean-girl comments to anybody who walked by (me).
Now, if the cat does it again and I can’t get the stench out, the she will be expelled, or at least placed in some serious detention. But until then, I’ll just keep hovering in the social wings of our pet-centered home, hoping that maybe The Dog will let me have my spot back on the couch.
Here’s the recipe from Animal Planet for de-funking cat pee (it really worked!):
- Blot dry or if already dry, get wet with water and blot dry the excess urine.
- Soak with mixture of water and vinegar. Vinegar is great for killing bacteria. This mixture is perfect for both old and new stains. Try 1 1/2 cups of warm water and a ½ cup of vinegar. Pour this concoction over the stain and soak for about 3 to 5 minutes. Note: vinegar is not good for marble or stone.
- There’s nothing like good all-purpose baking soda. After the water and vinegar solution is dry, sprinkle the area with baking soda. How much is enough? A lot.
- You’re not done just yet with the homemade remedies. Mix 3/4 cup of three percent hydrogen peroxide (you know you have some under your bathroom sink) with 1 teaspoon of dish detergent. Sprinkle this solution over the baking soda and test a small spot. You need to do this because sometimes peroxide can discolor or bleach fabrics (source). Work the baking soda into the fabric or carpet.
- It’s time to let the mixtures dry for a few hours (I did 36 hours). Once the spot’s good and dry, vacuum the excess baking soda. If the stain is extremely tough, repeat the entire process again.
- If homemade mixing is not your thing, there are commercial products on the market that work well too. Make sure to look for cleaners that contain enzymes because they work to break down the urine and neutralize the odor (source). Make sure you follow the instructions carefully on these products.
- Just because you can’t see the stain, doesn’t mean you can’t smell the stain. Deodorizing must be part of the equation. Once again, baking soda and a mixture of detergent and water will help minimize odors.
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor | Tags: adulthood, Christmas, cleaning, dogs, family, humor, Middle-Age, silver, south, southern, Thanksgiving
The holidays are upon us, and for most people that means lots of food, shopping, and visits with family. If you’re from The South, that means re-hashing behind kitchen doors the latest escapades of our eccentric relatives, and saying “Bless her heart” a lot. Those same relatives serve a very important purpose during the holidays: they are the people who keep our own families from going at each other across the table. Why pick on your sister when the easier target just shot three holes in his roof while chasing an opossum that turned out to be Cousin Elgin’s old beaver hat?
The holidays also mean one other thing—cleaning.
I don’t just mean taking a swipe at the dust sprinkled on the dining room table. I’m talking about on-your-knees, hip-throbbing, “Oh My God There’s A Mouse Under The Bed—Oh Wait, It’s Just A Dust Bunny” CLEANING…
Mostly, I just let things go until company is coming, or the family is plucking that last nerve, and I clean to prevent infanticide. It just doesn’t bother me as much as some people. Years ago, one of my friends gave me the nicest, back-handed southern compliment ever when she said, “I just love how you’re so comfortable with your house like this.” But now, the holidays are here, and it’s time to break out the old elbow grease and see how much damage has been done since the last time I cared.
Polishing the silver is my least favorite part. Not only did I have to promise to use the silver (or it would be hauled back to my mother’s house, where it would once again have a loving home nestled in velvet), I had to promise to never use the instant polish. Not using the instant polish means that for one evening, usually during the Sunday night football game, I am camped out on the living room floor, rubbing silver with a toothbrush. If you’ve never polished silver, here’s something you may not know—it sucks all the liquid out of your skin for days, leaving you looking a zombie with withered, gray, corpse-like hands. Three days after the scrubbing, rinsing and wiping, I can still still smell the chalky, coppery scent on my fingers, and I incessantly rub Pond’s hand cream into the cracks of my hands until I look like Lady MacBeth after her killing spree.
But mostly, I like cleaning when it’s been awhile—there is something viscerally satisfying about seeing the dust and dog hair swirling around inside my bagless vacuum cleaner. Same with the steam cleaner–nothing gets me more excited when I’m cleaning then seeing that black, dirty carpet water pour down the sink. It’s like when you were little and you had to keep peeking at that really nasty scrape on your knee–you just had to peel back the band-aid to see how bad it was.
I do have one favorite new cleaning tool, and most people will probably find it disgusting, but it’s efficient. The wall where The Dog’s food bowl is kept is constantly covered with dried up flecks of dog food. For years I’ve tried everything to get the wall clean, even fading the paint job by using straight bleach. Once, I even painted over it (not a good idea, it just looked lumpy). But the other night, my neighbor brought his old beagle, Lucy, over for a visit. Lucy, bless her heart, licked at that wall until it looked brand new. I don’t know what is in Lucy’s saliva, but it’s way better than a Magic Sponge or bleach. After Lucy left, I wiped the dog spit off the wall and marveled at her secret super power. From now on, I’m just going to sprinkle some old bacon grease on the baseboards, call Lucy inside, and let her go to work while I watch Duck Dynasty.
Now you know who my cousins and aunts and uncles will be talking about behind their closed kitchen doors as they carve the turkey and mix up the stuffing.
“Bless her heart, she’s so worn out she lets the dog clean the floors for her.”
Subourbon Mom 