A Near Cat-tastrophe

        Sorry for the absence of posts, people, I have been down and out with the cold of the century. Stupid. Also, the Pack lost last week. Double stupid.

        All of us kids are at Mom and Dad's new house in Eastern Washington, and It doesn't quite feel like Christmas, since I didn't have to hop a plane to the frozen tundra of Green Bay.   It's cold here, but there's no snow.   It may be my first brown Christmas because even the times I have stayed in Washington there have been freak Christmas snow storms.   Ah well, much easier to drive with out snow mucking up the works.

        My parents' house is brand new, and really beautiful.   There are all hardwood floors, granite counters, and a kick ass giant pool.   Problem is, the giant pool is closed for the winter-obvi- and the hardwood floors have been pledged to a terrifying sheen.   My dad stays up late at night and puts Pledge on the floors until they gleam.   We're talking every night, here, folks.   Needless to say, since our arrival, Ben, Stephanie, Eric, and I have nearly broken our necks via floor accident about twenty times a piece.

Danger lurks below

        Poor Kittles can hardly walk on the floor. Her furry little paws slip-slide out from under her. The first time she hopped off the couch onto the floor, it was like Bambi on ice. She ended up spinning out with all four legs in opposite directions, bless her heart.

imagine a persian cat doing this

        Speaking of Kittles, she disappeared for a minute this morning, and as you might imagine, I lost my shit.   I woke up, and skated out to the living room, no Lola.   I thought it a bit strange that she didn't come out from hiding because she is usually very excited to play when a human wakes up, and wants attention.  But I figured she was hiding somewhere, pissed that she had left her miniature kitty ice skates at home, thus rendering them useless to help her navigate the slick floors.

       I looked under every bed, in the closets, in the bathtub- still no Lola.   I started to get a bad feeling in my stomach.   My mom and brother and sister had gone to the gym, and what if she snuck out while one of those fools left the door open?!  All I could picture was a frozen, squashed, lifeless Kittles, and panic mode set in.  I hate to admit it, but I started crying.   "She's not here!"   "It's okay," Eric said, "We'll find her," but I could see he was worried too.   "She's already DEAD," I shouted hysterically.   I flew into my parent's room where my dad was trying to sleep, and screeched, "What's the number to Mom's gym?!!! Kittles is gone!"   I raced out of the room to get my coat, and narrowly avoided a spinal cord injury as I slid across the killer floor.

        My dad stumbled into the living room, dazed having been scared awake by a mad woman.   "I am going to kill the person who let her out!" I raged.   My dad defended himself, "I didn't let her out!"   "It's not about you dad! I don't care who did it, they are DEAD!"  I ranted on.   I threw on my coat and was about to get in the car to begin the search, when I decided to look in one last spot...

        That little jack wagon was under the couch.

Good thing I didn't alert the authorities

        Happy Holidays. Hold your loved ones-furry and otherwise- close this season, and try not to spaz out too much.

Oh Heyyyyyyyy

        Do you ever think to yourself,  "It's difficult being so fabulous?"  It crosses my mind about 8 times per day.  I bet Aaron Rodgers is too good of a person to think that.  However, if anyone was to have a self commentary on one's own fabulousness, I feel he could justify it because he's freaking rad.  13-0 baby!  P.S. Can we stop talking about who the bigger story is on ESPN?  Tim Tebow could not generate enough stock sales to pay for an addition to Mile High.  Just sayin'.

Oh heyyyyyyy

        I would like to think I am smooth enough to have the wherewithal to say, "Oh heyyyyyy" should I ever run in to Aaron Rodgers.  Unfortunately, any minimal brush with a B-list celebrity, and I am even more of a freak show than usual.

        For instance, one time Eric and I saw Casey Kotchman (I'll get to who that is in a minute, but as most Mariners' acquisitions go he was an unmemorable part of a losing season) at the Tap House down town.  At the time, he had just signed with the Mariners to play first base, and we had recently seen him at Fan Fest.  I spotted him before Eric did, and I (big surprise) couldn't get my words out.  I started pointing and sputtering as he walked past, and both he and Eric thought I was having a seizure.  Finally, he was halfway up the stairs when I blurted out, "That's the dude!"  Serious?   At the very least it was a mini fail - so uncool, and he's not even a big deal!  (No offense, Casey, if you are reading this, but you're no Albert Pujols.)  I am not putting in a link for you to find out who Albert Pujols is.  If you don't know, we're fighting.

       No, I don't know what I would do if I ever saw Aaron Rodgers in real life, but I can tell you what my brother did...BOOM.  It's true.

        So the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, he walks through the ol' Austin Straubel International (Green Bay airport) sliding glass doors, and a crowd starts clapping.   This is the best part of the story to me:  he thinks to himself, "Weird, but I'll go with it." Awesome.  Oddly, enough, the round of applause wasn't for him; he turned around, and there was A-Rodge.  I like to picture the scene with a white light appearing from a magical cloud from above, doves flying, and a choir of angels singing a single perfect, "Aaaaaaah!"

        One thing I can assure you of, is that Ben played it cool.  Let's be honest, I would have wound up tazed and served with an official document stating I am not allowed with in 500 yards of Lambeau Field for  an infinity.  Strong work on staying taze free, bro.  I will let that be a lesson to me.

Miller Lite in front of Miller Park- nailed it.

   

     

        

Epic Fail

        I have a confession: I am the fat kid in my ballet class.  Get all your jokes out now.  No, I don't have a tutu, but that is a hilariously sarcastic question.  I know it's super 5th grade that I'm in ballet, but it's a good work out, and apparently, I need it.  I consider myself an average size person.  I don't need a bunch of 22 year old college kids pirouetting circles around me (literally) in size XS leotards.  It makes me feel like I have some kind of excess growth hormone disorder.  Geesh.

"It's so hard finding a small enough leotard"- I know right?

        This all brings me to my next point.  What does the average fool do when faced with a certain to significant amount of failure?  This doesn't really happen to me very often-obvi.  So seriously, people, what to do?

Mini Fail

        I know what you're thinking, and you're [sort of] right.  This hat seems like a bit more than a simple 'mini fail.'  While it is an epic fail as far as hats go, it is only a mini fail in the grand scheme of things.  The good news is, it's an easy fix.  Burn the hat, burn the picture, and as long as that image isn't burned into any one's mind, we're all good.

        How about a medium fail?  Anyone ever have one of those?  I had a medium fail last Tuesday when I came home from work and found Eric's keys on the "wrong" key hook.  To his credit, I don't think he was aware that there was (and is) a right or wrong place to hang his keys.  Sooooo, let's just say he was a little surprised when I sighed, "Ugh. You're always taking my key hook!"  I can neither confirm nor deny any use of profanity associated with this event.  I can verify, however, that I needed a Mulligan, and promptly took one after that entrance.  

Don't take my key hook- RUDE

        Burn a hat here, take a Mulligan there- these mini to medium style failures are fixable.  Okay, fine, but what about things you can't fix overnight, or even... ever?  What if you're the fat kid in ballet class?  I could lose a limb and still outweigh all those chicks by about twenty bills.  Plus, I'd like to keep all my limbs, as losing one would make ballet class exponentially harder to be awesome in.  Even if I know it's actually a good thing to be the fat kid amongst a bunch of 90 pound bony freaks, sometimes it feels like an epic fail.  

        There are obviously much more serious epic fails on the spectrum, but I don't want to sit here, get hippie dippy, and talk about feelings.  Whether its an epic fail of the day, the week, the month, or even the year, you probably can't make it go away with a magic wand.  I do have a recipe to help with my own personal epic failures, though.  You can borrow it if you want, but there is a patent pending, so don't even try to sell this on the black market.

         First, I am nice to myself.  (Disgustingly close to hippie dippy, I know.)  I tell myself, "You're the prom queen."  Next I get my nails done and eat a cupcake.  Aaaaaaand then I get over myself.  

If that's not awesome, I don't know what is

           We all have moments when we wish we had done something differently, said something better, or skipped dessert.  It's so common that it makes me wonder if maybe none of it is any kind of a failure.  It's probably just life.

        Be nice to yourself... and then get over yourself.  Trust me, it is smarter not harder.