Thoughts on a Friday, milestone #2 for Dad, and the opinions of my cats...

Hello there, my sweet potaters...how's everyone on this happy Friday? Well, maybe not so happy...I have seen the headlines about Walter Reed Army Hospital closing and the tumult that could very well happen to Arlington/Crystal City/etc. I know that it doesn't necessarily compute for people that don't live in the DC area, but it's like the heart is being cut out of these communities, not to mention the jobs. Wow. That was a shocker, yes indeed. It's sad too...I mean, Walter Reed Hospital has seen countless soldiers and health professionals come in and out of its doors for years, and with the war raging on in Iraq, why did this facility come under the government's knife, so to speak? I don't understand, just like I don't understand anything about this war at the moment. I support the troops, but I get worried for them and their families and wish this stinkin' thing would be over as soon as it can be. I've gone through the waiting for a loved one to come home, and I feel for the people who are going through it now. They've gone through it longer than I ever did. I really don't know how my grandmother (my dad's mother) did it, especially with the bad news she wound up receiving. That's why I am torn about Cindy Sheehan's feelings about confronting the President. I think she should, but fear that she'll be disappointed and not know where else to turn. It's a lonely road, and her marriage crumbled (not sure what else re: the rest of her family relations). I don't get political in this blog because there's enough people expressing their points of view so I don't have to. I'm not as well informed as I used to be, and I am not sure why that is other than I'm just so damned tired of politics. (Wrong part of the country to live in to be tired of politics, but oh well...) I just want to focus on other things when I write...I'm not out here to make any profound statements about life, the universe and democracy. I just live, work, play, love and hug my cats. That's all anyone's gonna get out of me. Sorry...

Dad's reached his 2nd full week at home...YAY! I haven't gotten to talk to him yet b/c when I called earlier today he was talking to the visiting nurse. I'm glad he's home and recuperating nicely. My mom, sis and nieces/nephew are all doing nicely...school started for the three "C's" this week. How many of you readers out there still got the back to school butterflies in your stomach when you were out of school before kids came on the scene? I know I did. My mom wanted to put me on animal tranquilizers, but no dice...something about that being illegal or something.

Well, a new feature has evolved. From time to time, I am going to sit back and let my cats chat about the world around them and what they think about things. I would first like to introduce you to Chelmsford, and please note that the photos of both cats used are representations of their breeds as found on the Web as I am too broke and lazy to get a scanner.

Chelmsford (a representation of him at right) is a white male American shorthair. He's three years old, and I adopted him from a nice family in Cedar Grove, MD after my cat Scotchie died. He's named after the first town where D and I went for a vacation. He is also a doofus. I can say what I want about him because he's my cat, I feed him, and I've seen him in action. He can go from looking handsome to falling off an end table for no apparent reason. His hobbies include climbing on D's various fossil shelves, knocking over D's plants, licking his butt, and posing for the camera. He likes dry cat food, and is one of the few cats I've ever owned that absolutely makes no plays for people food. So without further ado, take it away, Chelmsford!

Now, Mommy?
Yes, Chel.
But I don't know what to say. Grandma Mary never talks to me on the phone, and I like her very much. Why won't she say hi?
Because Grandma Mary doesn't want to think about her grandchildren walking on all fours and sniffing other cats' butts.
But I love her. I shed lots and lots on her lap because I'm afraid she'll get cold. She gets mad at me for that. Why?
I don't know, Chel. Why don't you tell the nice people in the blog world about yourself?
No.
Why?
Because I'm sad.
Why?
I forgot. (BTW, studies done show that cats do not have the same bridge from short to long-term memory that other animals and humans have. Chelmsford seems to have this lack in abundance. Let's just move on...)


This, fair readers, is Millie (or a representation, rather). Millie is a nine year old Maine Coon Cat. I've figured out why they've received that name, at least the black and gray ones...when you look at them from the back end, they resemble a raccoon in how they kind of "waddle" (for lack of a better word). I adopted Millie about two months ago from a family I attended church with here in MD who were moving to New Jersey and didn't have room for her in their condominium. Millie owns us. Just so you know. You all may think I have control of this blog, but it's actually a dictatorship ruled by Her Fuzzy Majesty. If Martha Stewart were a cat, Millie would kick her ass. However, she's not so Millie has to be content to hiss at her. Millie, are you ready?
I'm quite upset with you, lady.
Excuse me?
You wouldn't let me eat your Wendy's takeout. That's...unforgivable.
Why do you say that? I hadn't eaten since lunch, and I'm just supposed to let you eat my dinner?
You make that sound unreasonable.
I don't even know why I am arguing with you. That's not the point of the interview.
What is the point? Besides your head? Hahaha..mew...hahaha
You are so lucky you're already spayed.
I'm sorry...what was it you were saying?
Why don't you tell the nice people in blog land about yourself?
No.
Why?
I don't have an agent.
You don't need an agent. You have me. You don't have opposable thumbs. Therefore, you don't need an agent.
Madonna has an agent.
What do you know about Madonna?
She and I have a lot in common.
Just because you both act the same way when you're in heat - and you're FIXED, by the way - doesn't mean you have a lot in common.
How about we both slept with Sean Penn?
How about you're full of kitty litter?
How about you take a fireplace log and (suddenly muffled...can't understand why that is?)

Well, obviously folks, this little experiment in journalism is far from polished. That doesn't mean I won't try again later...much later...like 2010.

Sudiegirl the trendsetter (however far reaching that may be)