Ruminating Slav

The Mean Reds have not abated

It's not that I don't want to post. I do, really I do. But it is difficult to regale you with humor and insight when there is no humor or insight to be had. Nary a thigh slap and no epiphanies as far as the eye can see. The future is looking bright, though. First UPS will deliver a new toy! Then, in a move brilliantly choreographed by BK, two weekends in a row of in-law houseguests! Yes, February has not been the strongest month for the Slav, but March holds much promise.

And don't you know, now that we live in Dallas I can't even blame my winter doldrums on the weather.

The post in which I halfheartedly apologize for my long absence and offer up a photo of an old lady wearing leather pants as a peace offering

leather pants!
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Honey-roasted peanuts, I'm sorry, I truly am. I believe I have been suffering from an attack of spleen for the past few days and the thought of approaching my blog with the Dust Bowl that is currently my life has filled me with dread and loathing. Never fear, I am currently in the process of Sucking It Up, as all good Slavs do what with the centuries of invasion and oppression behind us, and promise to be back friskier than ever.

In the meantime, while I am in the process of regaining my frisk, I present to you a photo I took at Albertson's on Sunday. I was almost done with my grocery shopping when I noticed an old lady with a walker -- she had to be at least 80. Said lady caught my eye because she was wearing black leather pants. NOT ONLY black leather pants, but black leather pants with black pantyhose and sandals. I stood there for a while with my cart, deliberating just how evil it would be to take her picture and finally decided that what she didn't know couldn't hurt her so I whipped out my cell phone and there you go. Rocker grandma in the haircare aisle.

"But there's only like 1½ people in the world you're comfortable with besides me"

Having decidedly tired of his mid-morning wakings, BK decided to bite the bullet and buy an automatic cat feeder with a timer. It arrived yesterday, and BK spent some time in the kitchen with Joshua Wanat, putting kibble in the bowl, closing it, opening it, and showing Josh that there's food in there. Joshua, being the gifted kitty that he is, spent the next 20 minutes frantically pawing at the feeder, scooting it around the floor and making a clatter that was, quite honestly, very disruptive of my Alias-watching. PRIORITIES, people. And cats.

In any case, the feeder was set to open at 3:45 a.m. BK reported this morning that he woke up at 4:00 a.m. (I guess old habits are hard to break even when the cat's not actually meowing) and went to inspect the feeder -- it was open but the kibble was still intact. HOWEVER, Joshua Wanat must have eventually found the bounty laid out at his paws, because there was no meowing! All night! No meowing = success! I imagine that what I'm feeling right now is like a fraction of what parents feel like when their kid sleeps through the night for the first time.

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I just had the following conversation with my husband on the phone:

BK: We need to do some fun stuff this weekend.

Me: Hey, I did my part. I found the Bob Schneider concert and bought us tickets.

BK: Right! And I think we should go have dim sum with the church group Saturday afternoon.

Me: I don't want to do that.

BK: Why not? It'll be fun. You're always saying how we need to do more stuff.

Me: But I don't want my entire Saturday afternoon taken up.

BK: But you have to eat lunch!

Me: I can just have a sandwhich at home. No, wait a minute, I can't, since Buster pulled the loaf of bread off the counter and ate the whole thing.

BK: Well, let's invite my co-worker Andrew (this is a pseudonym -- do you think dooce has taught me nothing?) and his girlfriend over for dinner.

Me: No, I don't want to do that. He's a creepy Republican.

BK: Come on now, we need to do more stuff with people.

Me: But I'm not comfortable around them. I'd rather just be with you than people I'm not comfortable around.

BK: But sweetie, there's only like 1½ people in the world you're comfortable with besides me.

You see the problem, I'm sure.