If my pets could rat me out…

She doesn’t manhandle me too much, but talks to me a lot. Pets me when I sit on her lap. Fondles the bump between my ears. Leaves my tummy alone; I hate having it touched.

Her hair makes a nice bed. When she’s sleeping I like to knead it with my paws. I purr and drool, in ecstasy. When it is fluffed to my satisfaction, I curl up on it. Sometimes she makes a loud noise when I’m kneading and pushes me away. But I’m patient. Persistent. I wait. Then I sneak back and try again. Sometimes she sleeps through it, sometimes she makes an even louder noise than the first time and pushes me away again.

She sings. A lot. Usually on key, but sometimes in weird voices, using strange words that I know aren’t her native language. Sometimes I join in. Sometimes it scares me, her singing like that.

We howl together. I throw back my head Woooooo-woooohhh. Good times.

She talks a lot, even when nobody’s there to talk with her. Her attempts at conversation intrigue me. But I’m a dog, why’s she think I’m gonna talk back?

I like ya, Nance. It sucks you don’t have comments, but somehow I’ll survive. Comments, shmomments. Speaking of, I’ve tried responding on two Blogger blogs today, but the comments didn’t go through so forget it, I gave up.

. . .

I’m feeling lazy, so I’ll do a meme of sorts.

THREE
1.) How many links to do you have on your blogroll/link page? Do you visit all of the sites on your blogroll?
Too many. Not going to count them, either. No, I don’t visit them all. Not anymore. I just don’t have time or desire. But I keep them there for a rainy day.

2.) Does anyone you know in real life have a blog? Who?
Besides me? No. Well maybe. I’ve met Becky. She hasn’t updated in a while.

3.) What three sites do you visit every day?
Definitely Gmail (for personal and work)
my site (but sometimes skip a day or two)

. . .

I think I may turn down both job offers that I have right now. They are both in semi-regret. Money, I need more of. Time-hogs, I don’t. It is a balance. I will keep my ear to the ground, though, and will continue to try to be more thrifty. Frugal. Frank, on overtime, makes 4x my hourly salary. The smartest bet is for him to work overtime when possible.

. . .

Who says cats don’t have personality? As much as Fred is void of oodles of brain cells, he’s a sweet cat. Who loves boxes. And dog cages.

Click any for largerWho says the dog house is just for dogs? - Picasa

Food. Box. I need nothing else - Picasa

- Picasa

I was on time, everything on schedule. Kids out for the bus (early actually), my eggs in the pan, coffee brewing. The twins were already at the bus stop and the Squirrel Trapping Son had just walked out the door. As I waved to him through the window, he mouthed something to me. I couldn’t hear, I mouthed back. He shrugged, motioning for me to open the window, but it is cold and I didn’t want to let the cold air in. My eggs snapped and sizzled in the kitchen, bringing a little panic to the situation because momma don’t like crispy eggs. Since he was early out the door, I motioned for him to come back in and tell me his oh-so-important news. Then I went to the kitchen to check on the eggs. And waffles. I’ll admit. I subbed my (regular) toast today for waffles, which is probably the evil in it all.

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