Without onions

I was amused  sitting among the bearded truckers and tinted ladies in stretch jeans while enjoying  my Patty-Melt and fries.  Ahhh yes, a Patty-Melt and really good fries. Favorite delicacy of the road trip. Funny how I found myself sitting among the elderly pushing my change around the formica while my seat cushion made fart noises each time I adjusted my fanny. I believe there is a reason the menu that would typically boast "GRILLED ONIONS" with your order simply states in small print "grilled onions upon request, fifty cents". These old geezers can't handle grilled onions.  I envision the kitchen staff finally putting their fist down and saying "fine, just take the damn onions off the menu if everyone is going to order their Patty-Melt without onions."  Anyone who really knows me knows I love Patty-Melts, and hate onions and have always ordered mine without. It was like a fantasy come true. A Patty-Melt - ON THE MENU, WITHOUT ONIONS. I wait to place my order, taking little sips from a four ounce glass of ice water. The ice is smooth and melts quickly, the glass cold with tiny water droplets running down the side creating water rings on my napkin. The waitress is a classic. Pink curly shower cap hairdo, broad shoulders under a tight pink nylon uniform. Hem above the knee revealing legs that have endured the stress of being on ones feet for many years encased in thick stockings and stumped at the ankles that poured into white utility shoes. Water pitcher in one hand she reaches across the formica and quickly snatches my glass for a refill. Am I ready to order?  "Patty-Melt, please".  I'm very disappointed when she asks if I want that with or without grilled onions.  I'm tempted to respond  "For fifty cents extra?  Are you kidding? What is this world coming to? Next thing you know they'll be charging for water? Just give it to me without onions".  

But I mind my manners, and smile and request "without".  I'm a good girl.  Not quite old enough to get away with such nonsense. I'm just happy I didn't get the look, the raised eyebrow, the side smirk suggesting I was nuts ordering a Patty-Melt without.

Does anyone make Patty-Melts at home?

Send out the weather cat!

The winter rains arrive.  Splash, flood, wind, calm, chill. . . . . ahhh. . . a little winter sun.  The local news broadcasts the weather like its nuclear fallout. Updates every fifteen minuets are transmitted to our windowless bunkers. Global details in all the colors of the rainbow highlighting the highs and lows, winds gusts and tropical fronts.  Special teams of reporters gather their gear and stand strong against the elements to bring us a visual reminder that we have weather. These Special Ops reveal their identity with a "this is Guy Mann reporting" before each tale of mother natures furry for the record just in case they are swept away, caught up in the tide surge or ragging swell of a local creek. And those lucky to survive, again make their identity known with a repeat announcement to include their name and broadcasting station. Important information. Back at HQ the diagrams take on a clownish comical appearance with dancing clouds and cartoon lightning bolts.  These visuals must be for the kids. The days of the week are lined up in columns with happy faces, sad faces and dark cloudy faces. The days temperature in COMIC SANS type, puffy & in bright colors. If we're expecting wind, a little cloud blows an invisible gust causing the happy face to brace itself and grimace.  Me?  I watch and listen with little interest.  I get distracted by the ill fitting clothes of the local reporter, or her bad haircut. I Giggle at the absurdity of the notion anyone cares about the high pressure over Canada or the swirling jet steam in the Pacific.  Everything I need to know about today's weather I get from my cat. The winter rains arrived: Joey is wet. The wind is strong: Joey won't go out. Joey complains: its cold, wet and windy.  When he comes in he brushes his tail against my leg and I can prepare for the day. 

It's a long hair night

Much to his own surprise Joey cornered a grey fox munching sun flower seeds on our deck.  To my knowledge this was his second encounter. He had no intention of getting into a tussle but found himself face to face with this screeching fox when all he wanted to do is signal me his interests to be inside.  It's cold out and he's a short haired cat.

The night before I was awaken by a new sound. Wild. It sounded like a warning. I rose and looked out my window knowing all well that the dark wouldn't reveal the source. Concerned I went downstairs and turned on the back porch light.  All I saw was Joey, sitting quietly looking out into the dark with BIG green eyes.  I opened the door and he reluctantly stepped inside.  We went upstairs.  Joey revealed nothing.  He slept.

At night Joey adventures outside and, well, he's Joey. When he wants back in he knows he'll find us in the family room and goes around to the double doors on the front side of the house and stands tall.  We usually hear him before we see him.  Squeak, squeak, on the glass.  He's in.  On this particular night, however, he encountered a  grey fox, the size of a large cat, helping himself to the bird seed we put out for the local avian families.  And it's then we discover the source of that wild sound, the warning.  I turn on the overhead beams and in the corner, with nowhere to go but down one flight was this creature.  The sound was more fitting for a large bird of prey. Weird and scared.  I saw Joey and went to the other double doors and called him inside.  He hesitated, but came in and quickly turned around to view, from the other side of the glass, the little fox run the length of the deck, leap over the railing and disappear. This guy knows the lay of the land.  He's been here before.  He knew there is a sizable distance between the rail and solid ground - without even a turn of the head - gone.

Tom and I were excited.  We have a grey fox.  Who knew that bird seed would give us so much entertainment.  But, unfortunately it's probably not a good idea to invite wild guests to our home so we decide to make sure the seeds are only out during the early morning hours.  It's winter. These are long hair nights for a short haired cat.

Can't believe I found a photo of a human bean

OMG!!

Tears. #8 What a shock. Sweetie, my little Munchkin. I can't hold back my tears.  I wish I could take care of you or had some words of wisdom to pass on, but I'm at a loss. OMG ! 

Love you, and am sending good thoughts your way.  

Just a little pill, I am.

I'm reminded today that the side effects of breast cancer treatment is dull and boring.  I'm dull and boring.  The thing is, everyday, EVERYDAY I have to manage my fatigue, discomfort and  pain and conquer my depression over these dull and boring side effects.  Both arms throb with pain or tingle with numbness - Jolts of pain stab my feet and my ankles feel bruised.  I can't sleep because my arms just don't have a place in my bed. There is still tenderness in my scar and the tissue below is stretched to its limit.  I pull and stretch, massage and contort to keep it flexible, but its no use.  My wrists are weak. My hand strength almost non existent. I'm tired. My clothes feel uncomfortable and under garment heavy with silicone. I tug and pull and reposition elastic and sop up the sweat before it soaks my clothes. All because of this little pill.

I'm tired of listening to myself and know that no one else wants to hear it.  Who would? It's dull and boring.  Come on already, enough is enough. Suck it up.  I'm such a little pill.

No one should have to take this pill.  But thank Goddess this little pill exists.  Geeeze, I'm boring.