My mind is rambling, so ramble with me, won't you?
If this weren't a free service, I would be really darn pissed that the photo uploader isn't working for me. Hrmph. So it's gonna be black and white today, folks. And, I'm afraid, rather segue-free.
1. I love milk. If I had to choose one cold, non-alcoholic drink for my stay on a desert island, it would be very cold, fat-free milk, with chocolate syrup on the side for when the mood struck. When I was a baby, my oldest sister once made the mistake of putting chocolate milk in my baby bottle. The taste stuck. I remember sitting on the end of my bed at night yelling for "Bubba Choc" (bottle of chocolate) until my need was sated. My friends and family continue to use the phrase "Bubba Choc" when I won't stop talking about something. For ex., Do you really think I did OK? Do you think so-and-so thought I was OK? Do you think I'm OK? I'm OK, aren't I? Yep, that's called Bubba-Chocking. (There's a difference between this and "Chuck E. Chees-ing," which my friend Erica has coined. That involves becoming so spastic about the idea of something that one's head threatens to pop off -- or a parent threatens to call off the birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.)
2. I love that my cat Stosh, est. age 2-3 years, likes to play with cat toys. He's the first cat I've ever had who actually uses a cat toy in the manner instructed on the package. Vesper tends to tear open any catnip-filled toy, mainline the catnip and then toss the toy aside like roadkill. If I give him a little container of cat-grass, which undoubtedly will bear a sticker showing a cat delicately biting off just the tip of the grass and then walking away contentedly, he will lock his jaw around every possible blade and pull it out of its pot, strewing dirt everywhere. And then lose interest.
But I have hardwood floors. And Stosh's favorite toys at night are a) an oblong wooden container that had catnip in it until he pried off the top, which is MIA. Vesper hoovered-up the weed and Stosh continues to find the wooden toy in the middle of the night and start batting it around the floor. If I forget to put my glasses on before coming out to the living room, I am down on my knees, squinting, feeling my way around for the toy which -- you guessed it -- blends in with the hardwood floors.
The other two favorites are a ping pong ball that bounces delightfully around the house during daylight hours but becomes my nemesis after midnight.
Thirdly, a ping pong-like ball with sand or something inside it that makes noise. This one does not so much bounce as roll noisily about the house. This one was my own doing; it is one of a set of four I gave to my sister for her cat. She kindly brought one back for me when she visited.
3. I went to the Safeway on the way home from work, and I perused the aisles pretending I was a foreigner. The funny thing was, when I finally got to the checkout counter, I realized I'd forgotten something. "Where is the, em, cranberry ... em, the sauce? The cranberry sauce?" I asked the cashier. I had forgotten the word sauce for a minute! Then it took more brainteasing to remember the word "can." And suddenly I was saying "em," not the good American "um"? Good lord. English, woman! Stick with that!
4. As you know, I am having a party on Sunday. And no, I have not purchased any receptacles in which to hide.
Here's my question: For the past six months, I've been saving up the individually wrapped fortune cookies that come with my takeout Chinese food. Would it be too gauche to put them in a bowl at the party?? I swear, whenever I order a dish or two, the takeout place crams at least four cookies into the bag as if to say, "You piggy American! Don't you know that what you ordered could feed four people?" And while I'm on the subject, sayings like "Hard work without talent is a shame, but talent without hard work is a tragedy" is not a fortune, people.
5. Potsticker the potbellied pig has not been sighted in quite some time. Could it be that she has retired to the steamer in the sky?