Wondering About Wondercat

There are a lot of things I have been wondering/worrying about lately. I will spare you the details of every little thing and just tell you that, for right now, the thing I am most wondering/worrying about is...my cat.

The Wondercat is getting on in years and I have noticed some changes in him recently. He used to greet me at the door every day when I came home from work and these days I am lucky if he even decides to greet me at all. He used to climb up into my lap and snuggle for hours. These days he can usually be found sleeping under our bedroom armoire. It would take a disaster of epic proportions to get that cat to move from his little hiding place.

Wondercat is not what you would call a small-framed cat. He is a giant cat and his favorite activity, hands down, is eating. He would probably eat constantly if we let him. We used to let him graze all day long and once he reached a size so large that the vet started giving us dirty looks whenever we arrived for a check-up, we decided to put him on a diet. Now, Wondercat is on a restricted diet and he does not like it at all. The first few weeks of the diet were a struggle. He would beg and beg for additional food and I felt like the worst cat parent ever. Then, he seemed to become accustomed to the smaller portions and he figured out when the next meal was coming. But now? Sometimes he will not even come to his dish when we whistle for him. The whistle used to make Wondercat hop to attention and he would tear into the kitchen at lightning speed. These days he will mosey in whenever he feels like it and sometimes does not even eat everything that is in his bowl. Most troubling.

So, I worry about Wondercat. Is this behavior just old age or is there something else going on here? My guess is that he is just doing this to mess with me. He knows that when I feel guilty, it means extra treats for him. Sly little cat indeed.

I wonder what I’m going to do about ­­­­­­­­___________?

I’m tryin’, ya’ll. I’m trying to be perky and cutesy and happy and normal. I’m trying to write I Wonders and my own blog and emails and long overdue thank you cards for my birthday presents, trying to call friends and interact with my husband and snuggle my baby and walk my dog. I’m trying to live my daily life, but everything is done in the shadow of a great fear.

No, it’s not the poorness, though that makes my heart beat faster daily as I watch our credit card balance rise like a phoenix from the ashes of the bonfire I lit less than a year ago, the bonfire which was supposed to burn up the credit card monkey on my back for good. (Ya’ll, I spend 6% of my yearly gross salary on GAS TO DRIVE TO WORK, ok? This is not cute new boots on this credit card. This is not sexy eyeliner or fun trips to the beach. This is gas, and food, and car repairs, and that beeyotch is still climbing to the sky quicker than I can say GAWDDAMM.)

No, it’s not the job, though that is the tiger eating out my liver as I eternally shoulder a rock up a hill at the top of which are just-out-of-reach grapes that brush against my thirsting lips, or some other such torturous Greek mythic metaphor.

No, it’s not the prospect of Sarah Barracuda as my Vice President, though that makes me a little bit sick to my stomach. Both for me and for her.

Folks. I DO NOT KNOW what I am going to do about my Netflix lineup.

We’ve finished Seinfeld. We’re coming to the end of Northern Exposure – which, incidentally, does not affect my views on our Alaska governor because, yo, it’s a t.v. show, but it does make me a little more excited about winter for some odd reason. Anyhoo, I’ve got so many choices for our next series. Do we go with Weeds? Six Feet Under? The Sopranos? Do I strike out solo with Gray’s Anatomy? Do we mix it up and get, gasp, a friggin’ movie?

What are your favorite old shows? What is the show you adored most in life? What do you recommend I do about my Netflix queue? Because if I don’t hurry up, my husband will worm his way in there and make the whole thing a bunch of baseball documentaries, and then I will have nothing left to live for.

sign me up!

i'll take a shopping spree just about anywhere! i'm not a huge fan of shopping, but mainly that's because i don't have a lot of extra cash to spend. i could, however, do quite a bit of damage on someone else's dime.

there is nothing in my house that i own. everything that we have falls into one of two categories 1) gifts or 2) hand-me-downs. in fact, every single piece of furniture in our house is a hand-me-down - everything from the couches to the dining room table to the bedroom dressers. literally, the only thing we've purchased on our own is the washer and dryer and that doesn't necessarily count as 'furniture' in my book. no lie.

it's not that i don't want new furniture, it's just that i can't afford it. i see fantastic living room sets that i would die for, but there is no way i can fit it into our budget right now. but...if i had a shopping spree to say, oh, pottery barn or williams sonoma or the like, every room throughout my entire house would have a brand new look.

i would not hold back one iota. i would gut my entire house and even spend a few of my own bucks to hire a decorator to do it all for me. i would buy the big stuff like couches and recliners and bedroom sets, but i would also buy the little stuff, like bathroom hand towels and new placemats. i would go hog wild!!!

i really need to stop now because just thinking about it makes my heart flutter with excitement! i need to snap back into reality, but oh what i wouldn't give to have this kind of shopping spree and finally have a home out of the pages of a catalog.

I Wonder What Store I Want to Win a Shopping Spree In?

OK. The realist in me says Wal Mart - because then I could buy my groceries AND my gas AND a few things for the house and also perhaps a lifetime supply of kitty litter and some more sleepers for my exponentially growing child . . . on and on . . . and I know that's just the poor talking. And it's no fun. So I'm going to pretend all our basic needs are within our budget, and taken care of, and that this is just for fun.

So I would, OBV, want to win a spree in REI. Dude.

I *almost* was a dork and said Barnes and Noble, but if I only get one spree - hell, I can borrow books from the library, ya'll, but aint nobody out there ready to hand a kayak over the counter, as long as I have my library card to prove I'll bring it back. So I'm all over REI, where I can get my dream kayak and paddle (ok, Darlin, I'll get one for you, too!), a new family tent that will fit our exponentially growing family (lots of exponential growing going on around here), a good sporty swimsuit Speedo thing plus goggles and a cap, couple more bikes, some climbing ropes and other climbing gear, Chacos in an array of attractive colors to go with all my outfits, a few more camping supplies, and tons of clothes and accoutrements to go with all of these things. I would take Darlin's order, of course, and make sure he had every thing his little heart desired - it wouldn't be much, because he's a minimalist, but I know he must have a thing or two he'd like to get in the camping vein. Then, of course, I could outfit my kid in all kinds of stuff, I could even get him a climbing harness for each stage of life, a bike seat for my bike so he can ride in it, and then maybe a bike or two for him (when he gets old enough to ride). I could easily blow a few thou in REI.

Now, what I need on top of my shopping spree is about 20 extra hours in my week so I can actually find the time to USE all this stuff.

dinner for 75.

this is a really tough one for me. several people popped into my head - matthew mcconaughey, jesus, ellen. if i really truly got to choose, i would want someone who didn't make me nervous. someone that i could be myself with. someone who already knows me so that dinner would be comfortable - like an old pair of jeans comfortable.

dinner for two? well, how about 75 or so? i don't know exactly the number, but if i truly got to choose, i would have a big reunion with 75+ of my closest friends - my sorority sisters. i know that sounds really cheesy and cliche, but it's true. we had an absolute ball in college and i would love to gather everyone together again to catch up on our lives and relive the old days.

i get together with a handful of sorority sisters on occasion, but for this shindig, i'm talking about everyone from sharon to hammond to terri. absolutely every last one of us.

what would even be better is if we could all just overtake the house for the weekend. it'd be all ours and we'd crash in our old rooms, sleep in the rack room and order papa john's for dinner maybe. we'd eat in the dining room and order up a keg or two to keep in the closet - just like the old days!

i'd love to have dinner with matthew. he is, after all, my boyfriend. but, for this one time, he'll have to wait, because a long, relaxing dinner with 75+ of my closest friends is just what i need right now. even more than i need matthew.

Dinner with Elvis

I have thought and though about this topic. Luckily, I never had to write about this in school because I am fairly sure that I would have never come up with a sufficient answer. Every single time I think that I know what one person I would choose to have dinner with, I think of another person that would be just as cool, just as fun, just as interesting!

Elvis Presley is always near the top of my list. I have long had a thing for young, rebellious Elvis and I would love to sit down with him at dinner. I would probably not want to eat anything at the meal because I would want to serve all of his favorites and I just cannot handle peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Ick. Maybe Elvis would use his wealth and power to ensure that I got some of my favorites served as well?

So, young Elvis and I would chatter on about rock and roll and about musical influences and about how music has changed our lives. He would show me dance moves and I would show him my Elvis snarl. I would beg him to call me Mama at least once and I would want to hear all about his childhood. I would want him to tell me about Graceland. I would want to hear his thoughts on the world today and on music today. I would ask him to sing for me...more than once. I would take many, many pictures. I would probably find myself speechless on several occasions. Breathless even.

A man with such magnetism, a man with a sweet southern drawl, and a man with such influence on our music and society would surely make for an interesting dinner.

I wonder if I could have dinner with one person, who would it be?

She is 50 years old, the oldest she will ever be. She is a large woman with light brown hair, almost auburn, and with round rosy cheeks and dimples in her elbows. I have never heard her voice, but I imagine it to be a little high, a bit thin, but sweet. Like my mother’s and mine, only with a heavy Pittsburgh accent. In my imagination she is nervous, but quick to laugh.

I think the conversation would start a little awkwardly. We have very little in common, this lady and I. She is a devout Catholic, mother to seven children, very poor. I think she finished high school, though I’m not sure. If she ever left Pennsylvania, I never heard of it. My youth spent footloose and traveling is about as far from her life experience as it gets, although she might have been happy to know that her lifetime of work yielded material benefit two generations down the line.

Well. Half a lifetime of work. She did not get her full allotment. Fifty years is not enough time. If she’d had fifty-three, she would have met me.

I would have to somehow tell her my whole life story in the course of one dinner, which would mean a considerable amount of summary. I would want to hear her life story, too. I would want to know what my mother was like as a child. I would want to know if she and her son Michael and my Pap are all together again somewhere. I would let her pick the meal, and I would have to read everything into the food she chose, whether or not she prepared it herself or had it served, how she held her fork. How she styled her hair. The course of a dinner is not enough time to know a person, but I would take it over absolutely nothing.

I knew my paternal grandparents very well – they lived with us for quite some time when I was a kid, having made no other arrangements for the infirmity of advanced age. Five small children, two very old and ill grandparents, two very tired members of the Sandwich Generation, and four bedrooms did not a particularly harmonious household make. But we got by, and they were grandparental-like, in their way. I knew my maternal grandfather, a loving, gruff, Santa Claus kind of man who spent most of his meager pension on his eighteen grandchildren, somehow giving each of us equal attention and love.

I’d love to have dinner with the one grandparent whose face I only know from my mother’s wedding pictures. From the first time I got this essay question in grade school, to now, to forever from now, I think this would be my answer. I’d love to have dinner with my mother’s mother.

Like the lovely Italian city, her name was Florence.