In all the mayhem of the Cat Episode yesterday night, I forgot to mention that my world went bleak yesterday morning - the broadband connection was out and the le Manse* only had a wi-fi connection via X’s laptop. Since X is the only “working for a paycheck” person in our house these days, he wasn’t really sympathetic to my Internet needs. People, I had to dig out a phone book and thumb my sensitive digits through actual pages of thin, unmanageable paper. They got all smudged with ink. It was truly tragic. Okay, maybe not, but it sure felt like it. Anyway...... I am still very upset about the cat situation and have had people either 1) question how we can just “get rid” of our pet in this way or 2) say to hell with the neighbor. Um, on the one hand I appreciate the support, on the other hand, the neighbor (aka NSN) has the law on HER side. WE are the ones breaking the leash law for my city - not her. While I will HATE** NSN til my dying days now, I still think it is far better to “play nice” with her and try to get a good home for Harry, as opposed to pissing off NSN to the point where she calls Animal Control. Then, we could have a situation where we don’t GET to choose what happens to Harry. Besides, we were already sternly warned by Animal Control last fall that our cat should not be running around at large. I am going to call my step-mom tonight - her parents have a huge ass farm - thousands and thousands of acres worth. Surely, THEIR neighbors won’t complain if Harry wanders to their side of the fence. Wish me luck. In the meantime, here are tidbits of what has been going on lately.......
Kefir Madness: My love affair with all things yogurt came to an abrupt end when I puked yogurt all over myself in the early days of the Freeloader’s Development Cycle. It was an episode of horrific proportions - I was on an Interstate, driving 70 MPH in rush traffic. There was no choice but to just “let it out”. All over my lap, that is. I hadn’t really forgiven yogurt since then and I admit I was harboring a deep resentment. However, yesterday at the grocery store, I saw my old friend Kefir in the dairy section and I thought “Why not try to mend the proverbial divider of property? Perhaps turn a new leaf?” Ah - bliss. How I missed you, my Yogurty Goodness. Welcome back, welcome back. Tomorrow? Maybe I can patch things up with Dannon.
Begging is Underrated: I went to my cousin’s house today to visit. As mentioned before, he and his wife just had a baby in late April. The last visit, I scored a ton of maternity wear. This visit, I scored a ton of baby wear - a positive improvement, I might add. Granted, much of it is Harley Davidson (I believe there may have been something referred to as a "do-rag" involved (??) - I kid you not. While the little Freeloader can never wear that stuff around X, what Daddy doesn’t know while he is traveling won’t kill him, either - right? After all, my favorite motto is “If it’s for Free, it’s for ME.” One dilemma, though. I can see this becoming a trend - meaning their son will always be 5 months older thus ensuring the little Freeloader a steady stream of freebies. I don’t mind if MY kid is the freeloader, but I am not keen on being one myself. I offered to pay them for the clothes and of course, they refused. So, I told my cousin’s wife this: I will keep aside all the combined baby stuff (hers and mine) to sell in next year’s garage sale - then just split proceeds with her. Do you think that is fair? Neither of us will need all these little clothes - this is definitely their last child. X and I are hoping to adopt Baby #2, so we won’t need all this newborn stuff either as 1) we hope to adopt a girl and 2) we will most likely adopt an older child/baby.
Mind the baby, Mr. Bean: Since I alluded to this earlier this week, I was intrigued by a recent article on Salon regarding new technology for tracking where your children. You can link to the entire article here, but this is the paragraph that interested me most:
The irony is that, although news reports paint a bleak picture, independent statistics show that life has become less dangerous for kids in recent years -- with violent crime in particular dropping by 38 percent since 1975. The short spin cycle of cable TV may anoint a new child victim every week, but the actual numbers are far less grim: of the 800,000 kids that go missing each year in America, only 150 cases involve what the Justice Department calls "stereotypical kidnappings," in which a child is taken by a stranger and either held for ransom, abused or killed. Scores more "missing children" are teenage runaways or "throwaways," abandoned by their parents. "Truly, the real news story of the last 10 years has been the astonishing decline in crime," says Dr. Alvin Rosenfeld, a New York City child psychologist. "But we are assaulted by a media that is more interested in scaring people, so it is almost impossible for parents to assess the real level of risk. And of course, there is no shortage of people willing to sell products based on those fears."
Educational Irony: I signed up for a ton of classes today and couldn’t help but appreciate the juxtaposition of my Former Life and my New Life. In addition to signing up for Childbirth 101, Baby CPR, and Breastfeeding***, I also signed up for Business Ethics, Fraud: Government and Non-Profit, Avoiding the Train Wreck: Helping Your Clients Manage & Protect Retirement Assets and Income and finally, Accounting and Auditing Updates. Unfortunately, all sound equally boring! However, I must keep both the Freeloader AND my CPA license alive, so off to school I go.
*All stalkers beware, we don’t REALLY live in a le manse - it’s really just a house - albeit one with an unstable broadband connection and a renegade cat.
**When I told my sister that I HATED the neighbor, she said that was a pretty strong word. I said that it was the RIGHT word. Because I do HATE her - I have to give away my pet because of her. Obviously, my sister is the better person. I don’t care.
***All the Kid Classes were SO CHEAP - I was shocked. X and I are taking all the classes for $125 through my hospital.