Run. Dog. Cat. Cat. Me.

Everything you need to know about running and life and any other random crap I find bouncing through my mind like a ping pong ball. And always be sure your shoes are happy.

Back in the saddle again

Sunday morning, it’s beautiful out – and I slept until 7:30 and did not run.  So now the world will end, we are all going to die and probably Chunk will chew my toes off in my sleep when she turns into a Zombie Cat.

Actually I do have my suspicions she already has (turned into a Zombie Cat, not that she chewed my toes off, because I can still see them all right now) but that she is currently able to maintain the facade of normalcy for good periods of time.

Along the lines of this digression, after which I will return to our regularly scheduled blogging, I submit for your review and input the picture I managed to get this morning when I accidentally came upon her trying to eat my table.  Note the glowing eyes which, the instant I snapped the picture, quit glowing and she looked at me ever so innocently, “Oh, hi.”  “Who, me?”  “Why, no, not eating the table legs, just um…stretching.  Yes, I was stretching.”  Below that, the “I’m so innocent” picture.  Which is the truth, and which is a lie?  Please submit all votes before midnight CST Monday, April 30, 2012.  I worry that votes received after that time might be counted by the Zombie(s); I fear I may not have much more than 24-36 hours left.  Also, I leave my favorite Smushy Pillow to the hubs who steals it all the time anyway, along with my half of the bed linens which he also always steals.  To the children, anything you can find that looks good, take it.  Since the fanciest thing we own is one flat screen TV and it’s 19″ and I got it at WalMart for $199.99 plus tax you’ll just have to take your chances on finding anything  in the house of great value.  I do love you all deeply and somewhere there are some cute baby pics of some of you.  Not all of you, I ran out of time.  But some.  Somewhere.  I did truly mean to get them in a photo album at some point in the past 3-1/2 decades.  General Hospital was quite good for a number of years, tho, and I got distracted.

Chunk:  The Truth or the Lie? V.1

And, Chunk:  The Truth or the Lie?  V.2

I want both of you to carefully review these photos and let me know which is the truth and which is the dare.

So that’s my story of how I’m worried about Chunker.

In the meantime while I was waiting for these pics to load and then I would get back to our regularly programmed blogging I wanted a snack so I got an orange.  A couple of weeks ago while I was out of town the hubs bought some navel oranges at the local unsupermarket (it’s not that great a store, but the salad bar is pretty awesome.)  I’ve tried repeatedly this spring to purchase oranges, all of which promised juicy drippy sweetness in the unsupermarket as I squeezed them in a lame attempt to look like I knew what I was doing, trying to ascertain if this was a good orange to purchase.  Arriving home, however, my hopes were constantly dashed as one after another was revealed to be dry, pithy and sour.  At last I gave up on my search for orange-y vitamin C goodness – until I returned from out of town and found the basket in the kitchen full of yet another load of oranges.  Being the innocent believer in goodness that I am, I tried one last time.  Peeling the orange revealed a fruit which was deeply, brilliantly orange, a shade of orange making the University of TN football team look pale, dripping with juicy goodness, sweeter than baby kisses.  I stood over the sink making involuntary nom nom nom noises while I shoved the orange in my face, juice running off my elbows into the sink below.  Hubs arrived home to the wreckage, orange peels everywhere, Murph the Wonder Dog stuck in one spot, his paws unfortunately glued to the floor in dried orange juice, and me in a stupor slavering over the last delectable section of the last orange.  “Fwhere didshu get fthese ornjuzz?” I managed to gasp, trying not to look guilty and shoving the last bit of orange behind my back.

“At the store,” he replied, looking vaguely confused.  No, that’s a lie, I’m sorry.  He looked completely confused.  Why was I asking him about oranges the minute he walked in the door?  Was it a trap?  Was I going to blame him for the juice all over the floor, even though he was pretty sure he knew it had not been there when he left for work?  Or was I going to ask him to pry the dog loose, despite the fact that it was obviously my fault Murph T. Dog was stuck and additionally I’m the only one who can find the mop, for, as Rosie O’Donnell pointed out once (when she used to be funny), apparently the uterus is a homing device.

“They’re so good!” I replied.  “Where did you get them??”

“At the local unsupermarket in a great big bag for a dollar.”

Oh, sure.  He waltzes in, grabs a big a$$ bag of oranges for a buck and they’re great.  I stand there sniffing and squeezing each individual orange at about $32 apiece and my oranges suck.

So anyway, that’s the story of my orange that I just ate.  It was really good.

I’ll get back to the regularly scheduled blogging in a minute but first I have to tell you what else happened when I was uploading the pics.  I need to tell you both that I am very afraid that Zombies have probably managed to annihilate the staff of Yahoo! News.  For days now every time I go to open one of my yahoo email accounts all the highlighted news is THE SAME.  It hasn’t changed for DAYS.  “Kate’s Princess Transformation” “Angelina and Brad are Engaged” “What Men Find Attractive About Women” (uh, duh – if they’re still breathing) and the one that has been catching my eye, “How Often Should You Change Your Sheets?” which then provides this sinister hint:  If you’re only washing them once a month, you could have some unwelcome visitors in your bed. 

I’m already having a lot of issues with the whole Zombie thing which is EVERYWHERE now – more on that in a minute – and suddenly I learn that if I don’t wash my sheets I could have Unwelcome Visitors In My Bed, and I don’t think they’re talking about the guys they interviewed about finding women attractive, none of whom, I’m sure, had an entire set of their original teeth and probably drive a ’74 greenyellowred pickup truck with a bumper sticker proudly announcing that you should definitely not pass on the driver’s side ‘cuz Ah Chew and Ah Spit.  So I am totally washing my sheets.  Right. Now.  Then I thought, well, I should probably wash the comforter too.  I grabbed that fluffy down-filled king-sized sucker, dragged it down two flights of stairs and crammed that baby into the unsuspecting washing machine.  Setting it on “Large Load” “Heavy Duty” I fired that little GE baby up and sat down to blog because first, now that I’ve newly committed to not working on the weekends I now have nothing to do, and second I thought you both may have been missing me.  I know that you know that I’m there for ya tho – I got your back.

Chunkermunker, however, doesn’t trust me to quite that degree.  While waiting for my pics to upload she decided once again to play the innocent and jumped up on my lap.  Looking precious and sweet she put her little nose to mine and closed her eyes, her little paw on my shoulder.  I can’t do anything with her like that, of course, particularly anything like reach the keyboard and reveal her Zombie Secret to the world but I’m sure that’s not what she was doing.  I’m sure she just loves me.  Not a whole bunch, but a little bit, I bet.  Because at that moment the washing machine went off load with the king-sized comforter full of probably 87 pounds of absorbed water and started trying to walk out of the laundry closet.  Which is right next to my office, so the walking thumping pounding washing machine was pretty loud and Chunker looked at me with her eyeballs as big as oranges (really good oranges) and she was under the bed in one half of a nanosecond, leaving me alone to deal with the attacking washer.  See how she has my back, how my safety and security are always uppermost in her mind?  Murphy would have saved me, I bet, but he was upstairs sound asleep on the newly washed bedding, letting all his little fleas have a picnic in the hills and valleys of the wrinkled sheets.

So that’s my story about that the Yahoo! News staff is probably already Zombies and also what might be in your sheets if you don’t wash them, so don’t blame me if you get eaten tonight by Zombies stuck in your sheets.

In just a minute I’ll get back to the regularly scheduled blogging about getting back in the saddle again, but first you both need to know something else about Zombies.  You know the part (above) where I mentioned that the Zombie thing is, like, EVERYWHERE NOW?  Wellllll…..I’m pretty sure I maybe be among The Chosen.  Maybe you don’t know about The Chosen since I’m sure neither of you are.  Chosen, I mean.  But when the Zombie Apocalypse comes there will be some of us who are prepared and we will be the ones who have to save the rest of you idiots who act all nice about everything – but I know you don’t really believe me about the Zombies.

This is what happened so that I know I’m one of The Chosen.  I was at my mom’s house and the neighbor invited us both to her house for dinner.  They’ve only lived there since last fall and my mom was pretty busy the past few months with my dad, so she never really got to meet them other than the times they see each other outside and shout HI! and the time the brother and his friend shoveled all the snow off mom’s driveway which was very nice of them.  So we sit down in the dining area and begin visiting with the neighbor and what do I see????  OMG.  The Zombie Survival Guide.  Right there on the shelf in front of my eyes.  Yes! it’s EVERYWHERE NOW.  So I know it’s a sign right away and I jump up and say, OH MY GOSH! and they all ducked because maybe they thought I was having a seizure or something and they looked pretty surprised and I shouted ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!  YOU HAVE THE ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE!” and they nodded that they did, indeed, have The Zombie Survival Guide.  AND – they let me borrow it!  Can you believe that?  Something that valuable, and they let me take it out of their home and all the way to Memphis and they didn’t even charge me a deposit.

So that’s my story of how I learned I was one of The Chosen and that it’s all EVERYWHERE.  Also, I do have my own copy of the book, I do.  But I kinda lost it, maybe.

Now I guess I’ll talk about being back in the saddle some other day because all this worrying and all my efforts to try to make you understand about the Zombies and Chunk and Murph and oranges and being Chosen and washing your bedding has completely worn me out and I’m going to go take a nap.  On the couch.  Which the Yahoo! News Zombies did not indicate is inhabited by unwanted creatures.  Other than Murph and Chunk, of course, who, the minute I thought the word “nap” in a tiny corner of my mind immediately raced each other to the couch, leaving me half a cushion and part of a pillow.

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4 thoughts on “Back in the saddle again

  1. Holy buckets…you are my Queen of the Blog. I loved this! And Chunk is most certainly the devil.

  2. I may need to send you my resume to circulate since my boss is most likely convinced that I am completely batcrap crazy because I’m sitting at my desk laughing hysterically. Or maybe he thinks I’m a Zombie. Like Chunk.

    • Did you wash your sheets yesterday? Because if not you could be in the beginning stages of Zombie if there were any hiding in the sheets and they bit you. I would recommend you definitely do not tell your boss you might have Zombie cooties this morning. Also try to keep that off the resume. There are a lot of Zombie bigots out there and you never know who they might be.

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