Friday, November 20, 2009

The Art of Give and Take...

How many times have you seen this? If you’re married or have children, or both…chances are you’ve faced this rather exasperating sight at least more than once. I’ve been married over thirty years; have two daughters and a grand-daughter. And I’ve stopped counting the number of times that pathetic bit of tissue has waved at me from the bare cardboard roll. It used to bother me. Not anymore.

Let me back up and explain. I’ve got about a thirty minute drive home from my day job. The particular day I have in mind, the trip seemed a lot longer because I’d consumed an extraordinary amount of coffee and I needed to use the restroom so bad I was about to gargle. Why is it when you need to go to the bathroom, everyone in front of you drives as if they’re in no hurry to get anywhere at all?

Finally, I got home. I bolted into the house, threw my stuff onto counter, leapt over the dog, tripped over the cat and careened into the bathroom just in time. Ahhhh…blessed relief. And then I see it, the one tiny square of tissue flapping in the breeze.

We live in a modest house. The bathroom is quite small. From the seated position, with your pants around your ankles, you pretty much have to be a circus contortionist to reach the new roll stashed under the sink. Not only that, but we keep a bowl of water for the pets beside the stool because we keep the seat down so they can’t drink out of the toilet.

So, while I’m standing on my head to reach under the sink, I flip the pet bowl and dump the water all over the rug and my pants. As I fish out the roll, every towel in the cabinet topples out into the puddle of water. Oh well, I needed to clean it up anyway.

After this adventure, I backtrack to the kitchen to ask my beloved husband if it would kill him just once to put a fresh roll of toilet paper on the holder. I receive a look of complete amazement along with the off-handed comment. “It wasn’t empty.”

I try to explain to him that a millimeter of tissue doesn’t constitute enough toilet paper for “a serving”. I’m then gifted with a roguish grin and informed, “Jasper did it.” Ever since both daughters moved out, the dog and cats are alternately blamed for anything awry in our house. My darling husband has been nominated for sainthood. I’ll let all of you know when the ceremony is to be held.

By now, steam is coming out of my ears. I’ve had a long day. I’m tired and I now need to change my clothes. He pulls me to his chest, kisses me on the forehead and tells me my supper is ready whenever I am. He also adds he’s emptied the dishwasher so he can clean up the kitchen when we’re done.
So you see? That’s why I’ve decided toilet paper’s not so important after all and I’m going to learn to look BEFORE I sit.

Friday, November 13, 2009

This new adventure called "Blogging"....

I've just signed my paranormal romance, "Beyond a Highland Whisper" with The Wild Rose Press so, I'm new to this mysterious world of blogging. Since I've just submitted all the paperwork for the cover art and not quite started the edits, I thought these first "learning blog posts" would be a good opportunity to introduce myself and get used to this odd little contraption.

As you can see by the photos, I'm an animal lover. I also have quite a nice husband who's been around for over thirty years. He says I love the Jasper more then I love him. He's's just that Jasper doesn't snore...much.

Niko, "The Ancient" is named as such because he's nineteen plus years old. He will never die because he knows my husband hates him. He's living just to spite him. When he was a kitten, he chose hubby's favourite pair of hunting boots rather than the litter box. If you're the least bit familiar with the odor of cat urine, you know the boots had to go.

Fiona, "The Huntress" appeared out of nowhere half-starved wandering up our driveway. We live on five acres back in the woods. I don't know what happened to her but any critter that shows up at the door, I feed it. So, now she's fixed...and now, she's ours and I have to watch where I step every morning. She's leaves me presents of little dead varmints on the doorstep. I guess that's her way of saying thank you for taking her in. Once I stepped outside and she was slinking up on a deer in the front yard like a lioness across the Serengeti. No confirmed kill as yet.

And then of course, there are the raccoons, possums and squirrels. We love our little corner of the wilderness here in Kentucky. Sometimes I think it's the wind whispering in the trees that helps nudge the words loose in my head.