Rambo's Rampages...

We bought our house over a decade ago from someone who used the large shop as an actual automotive business. For the first five or six years of us living here we had people in and out weekly thinking it was still a working garage. People were constantly knocking on our door asking for Carl. They would leave their cars parked in our driveway with their keys and a note. People even had vehicles towed here. And no matter how many times we said there was no business here anymore or how many signs we put on the doors people continued to show up.  One day two ladies came up to my door mid-morning asking about the "shop." I politely told them that there was no longer a shop here, it was just a family home now. They curiously looked at me and responded, "So you don't have anything to do with the guys in your garage?" I immediately jump to action knowing that my husband is upstairs asleep from night shift and my son is far too young to be out in the garage himself so I e...

 More like bowl.  A nice bowl, of course. A vintage white enamel one, specifically. They are my preferred style of kitchen ware. Light, tinsley, and most importantly they harken back to a different time where we cooked our meals over  fireplaces (inside or out) and lit our homes with candles and lanterns.  So it only made sense to use one for his bones.  He wasn't my favorite when he died, and this wasn't even my plan initially- to keep his bones- but when the time came it all just seemed to make sense. It still makes sense. I think of him and think, "Yeah, it's appropriate that your skull is on the kitchen sill behind my sink." It's our cat. ONE of our cats I should say. I clarify this only to show that he wasn't our one and only cat and I've already stated that he wasn't my favorite. But he was the one that both my husband and I came to an understanding with.  The understanding with my husband was: You are cat; you give me what I want and I will ...

I tell the kids this evening that they are on their own for dinner. Mostly because whilst cleaning the kitchen I accidentally threw away the left overs of the early dinner my husband and I had consumed a few hours before. (The joys of night shift... but that's another post). And thankfully my children, 3 of them anyway, are old enough to make their own food. So, yay, mommy is off the hook! I think. My one daughter decides to make a salad. Lettuce, kale, broccoli and vidalia onion viniagrette. Woot! I am doing something right!!  The other daughter who never likes anything I make probably thought this was a gift straight from God.  But seeing as how there was no cereal or steak in the house - because those are the two things she will eat - decides dinner is overrated and forgoes eating anything. My son, who tries valiantly to like whatever I make and usually kindly rates my food at "it wasn't my favorite", also decides to make himself a salad. I think. He...