Casita Klatsch

Funny Zombies

It's here.  It just wouldn't be a Sandy summer without a head cold.  I thought I might have escaped it this year, but it has moved in nearly overnight.  I'm hoping it will be one of my short-lived ones. 

Last night, Zane and I watched Shaun of the Dead.  It has been on my wishlist for a few years.  Now that Zane is old enough to deal with such movies and not obsess or have nightmares, it is a real pleasure to watch them with him.  Of course, anyone who knows anything about SOTD, Simon Pegg or Edgar Wright knows that this is not your average zombie flick.  Part of their "Blood and Ice Cream Trilogy", it is so clever.  Ranks up there with Bubba Ho-tep on my list of favorite dark comedies.  Even Mark, not a fan of horror films, giggled a bit throughout it.  

In other news, I have a birthday coming up fast.  In case anyone is out of ideas, I'd like something from here, please.  And there's always my Powells or Amazon.  Thanks in advance!  </wink>

Pussies, Plants and Pale-Green Eggs

I looked after Homer's cats while he was in San Diego over the past few days.  Forrest, who moved in Ye Olde Casita after my February return to Sydney, has also been out of town.  His cat, Shirley, needed some TLC, so I looked in on her, too.  Five cats.  That's a lot of petting, not to mention poo to scoop.  I don't mind, however.  They're sweet cats.  

Homer and his cats (minus Snowball), circa 2007

I did have a scare yesterday.  Snowball the Kitten decided to wander outside after Puff had craftily pried open the door, after I only thought I had closed it tightly behind me upon going to visit Shirley in the Casita.  So I returned to Homer's backyard and found Puff standing at the door and Snowball under a tree.  Snowball, just this side of feral, was nervously sniffing around, eating grass and crying.  The big sook.  I tried to coax him back inside, but he wouldn't have anything to do with me and wouldn't let me get near him, despite the pleading, scolding and food handouts.  The clincher was when he squeezed into the crawlspace under the house.  At that point, I gave up.  I've had many cats before, and when one has got out before, they always come back that evening.  They know where home is.  And food.

So I got to tell Homer when I picked him up from the airport that the newest addition to his fold had temporarily flown the coop.  No, not Henny-Penny, but Snowball.  Of course, I felt terrible, and I tried to palliate his worry by telling him that cats come back.  Snowball didn't look like he was going anywhere.  He just wanted to relive some of his vanishing youth in the wild for a few hours. 

About an hour later, Homer called to tell me that Snowball was safely back in the house.  I hope I'm not off the Holiday Party list. 

Homer's hen, Henny-Penny, was a good girl while he was away.  She laid an egg nearly every morning.  They are beautiful, the color of fairy tales.  Unfortunately, Snowball the Kitten rolled one of them off the kitchen table.  Not so pretty anymore.

Proud Henny-Penny

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Yesterday, I planted the cactus we had bought over the weekend.  Zane has been wanting a big cactus bowl, so he, Mark and I headed to a very cool local nursery, where we all chose a few succulents we liked.  Last night, while he was taking a break from some Pre-Algebra homework that was kicking his butt, Zane designed the arrangement, and I transplanted them to the bowl.  I enjoy these projects with Zane.  It's nice to do something creative and non-Wii.  

 

 

By the way, Zane started his own blog a couple of weeks ago.  Why not stop by and encourage him to write more?

Number Six

(...but who's counting?)

Happy Anniversary, my man!

Two Things

1)  Why are you told you cannot put broken glass in your curbside recycling bin, when upon tipping it upside down to dump it in the truck, they simply break all the glass anyway?

2)  Why would you openly (or otherwise) carry guns to a town hall meeting on healthcare reform?  What's the relevant point?

Won't someone, please, enlighten me?

It's a Sad, Sad, Sad, Sad World

Like many, I am an NPR junkie.  I love it.  As a US citizen who has lived in three other countries over the past [nn] years, NPR has been my comfort food, providing the necessary sustenance to warm my homesick soul.  It's not that I prefer not to listen to (or watch) the media outlets indigenous to the countries in which I am living.  I certainly do that.  NPR is a balm.  And it's home. 

Many slam NPR for having a blue slant.  For being too progressive.  I say, what's wrong with with being progressive?  Shouldn't we, as a society, progress?  Shouldn't we move forward to adapt to the current of time and the advances it brings? 

I just heard two very frightening things on NPR.  One was a rant by an Alabaman who felt immigrants should completely "assimilate" (his word) into US society.  The other was a newsbite that militia are on the rise in the US.  Reportedly, this is, in part, due to the Obama presidency.  Apparently, these militia members feel their rights are threatened.  Seems to me like the goal is to enhance rights for all, not to take them away.  I think these people are misguided, but I've thought that for a while now. 

Last fall, my 17-y/o brother [don't ask!] engaged in a Facebook thread with his fellow high-schoolers in Arkansas about the upcoming election.  The prevailing consensus took the form of objection to Obama, based on the fact that he is a person of color [actual statements censored], and that "his middle name is Hussein...need I say more?".  <sigh>

The culture war is here, and it is ugly.  I never thought that the push for healthcare for US-Americans would be the vehicle.  Why is it that those who stand to benefit the most raise the most hell?

I cannot watch the Town Hall clips on the news.  I did see the one from Arkansas, my home state, with the woman decrying the loss of "her" America through her raspy sobs.  Obviously, she was distraught.  But why?  Another woman who looked very much like my late grandmother, jumped to her feet upon hearing her, her jaw set in a way that made my spine chill.  I suspect she did not want to counter the bereft woman's statements.  I think she had her own cross to bear.  Probably the same cross her husband planted in someone's yard the previous night.

I am losing patience.  I'd like to think we are moving forward as humans.  I'd like to think the world of Zane's future is going to be much happier than that in which I grew up. 

But I think I am wrong.