Sunday Scare

I woke up Sunday morning and thought Blair was dead.

We were sleeping in separate bedrooms because I've AGAIN come down with the crud and he was trying not to catch it. But we'd made an appointment on Saturday to have a Road Runner cable technician come to our house early Sunday morning--sometime between 7:30 - 10 AM.  So when we went to bed Saturday, I asked Blair to make sure I was up no later than 7--no problem for the God of Dawn who gets up at 5 even on weekends.

So imagine my surprise when I awoke--on my own--Sunday morning and saw the clock read 7:02.  I got up and walked to the kitchen. The cats hadn't been fed and were rubbing ar0und my feet. "Oh my God, your daddy's dead," I said, hoping I was only kidding. I didn't really think he was dead and yet there was an unease present on my part.  Blair never sleeps in. What could have happened?

Only one way to find out. I climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom. I half expected the bed to be empty but a lump was present under the covers. Good. I could rule out "alien abduction."

I reached out and touched the lump. It started, then sat up.

"Oh good, you're alive," I said. "I was worried."

"What time is it?" asked Blair, stretching.

"Seven." I replied.

"No wonder you were worried," said Blair. "You must have thought I was dead."

So do you think we're a little regimented? All was well. The cable guy turned up about 9, tightened a screw and told us he hoped that did the trick. Blair made pancakes. The cats played in the discarded newspaper.  I coughed and sneezed into a tissue.

All is right with the world.

If I Could Have But One Wish...

...I would wish to call this little kitty mine.  Instead, I think it's a neighborhood stray. I periodically find her hiding under our next door neighbor's car. Which is what happened the day I snapped this picture. I looked out my kitchen window and saw her huddled beneath the wheel, so I scurried to put on my coat and take her some food and water.

She backed even further under the car when she saw me, but dashed out when I tossed some kibbles her way. I kept tossing them a shorter and shorter distance until she was almost to me and then she seemed to realize what was happening and went back under the car. I think I could have coaxed her out to pet her, but I was more concerned with her being fed. So I left the food and came inside. The photo here is taken from  our kitchen window.

The picture doesn't do kitty justice. This is one CUTE cat. I'd guess 3 months old, HUGE round eyes and ears that almost lay back like a Scottish Folds. She's got gray-brown fur on pure white and is just freakin' adorable.

I want her. I really, really do. I even gave serious consideration to staging a major crying jag in front of Blair in the hopes of weakening his "we will never get a third cat" stance.  But I know I can't. My allergies already act up with the two beasts we have now. Still... my heart aches for her.

We got our first 15-minute snowfall today and I kept my eyes peeled for kitty, ready to race out with food and blankets if I saw her.  No sign yet, but I'm still looking.

Maybe we could have an outdoor cat....? 

Ginger Chicken Massacre

Why...why...do I insist on cooking when it almost always ends in disaster? Last night I prepared a ginger chicken recipe from the South Beach Diet book. All I had to do was marinate the chicken and fry it. Marinating went well--I excel at mixing things in a bowl. The frying part...not so good.

The recipe said to spray a non-stick skillet with cooking spray and cook the chicken on medium-high heat for 8 minutes, turning once. I sprayed, I cooked, I turned. And ended up with a chicken breast that was a lovely golden brown on the outside and completely raw inside.  Never one to admit defeat, I hacked into the breast, sawing it in two and proceeded to cook those pieces. By then, the kitchen was filling with smoke as the cooking spray had evaporated and the chicken was burning to the bottom of the pan.  So I threw some EVOO into the pan and kept frying.

Blair had walked in the door by this time and was looking over my shoulder. "Is the pan supposed to smoke like that?" he asked.

"Shut up and hold that fire extinguisher ready," I said.

After 14 minutes and still raw chicken, I turned the heat off on the stovetop and slid the pan containing the mutilated chicken to the side.

Blair patted my shoulder. I looked at him.

"I want extra cheese on my pizza," I said.

"I'm on it," he said, running toward the phone.

THIS is why my diets fail. It's not that I refuse to eat healthy--it's that the Universe conspires and refuses to allow me to do so.

Back to pre-packaged meals we go.

World's Most Boring Speech?

I'm delivering a 15-minute speech tomorrow in my Toastmaster's club which may prove to be the world's most boring speech. Well--that's not true. I do have a leg up on Bush (a tip, Mr. President:  look away just occasionally from the teleprompter). But it's hard to get jazzed about a speech I have little enthusiasm for.

Toastmasters has different designations, one of which is "Competent Leader." To achieve this goal, you need to hold a club office and deliver 2 speeches from the Successful Club Series. The Successful Club Series is a group of speeches put together by Toastmasters International on how to organize and conduct good club meetings. 

The supposedly good part about the speeches is that they're already written.  A s a member, you just have to deliver them. However, I'm presenting a Successful Club Speech called "Moments of Truth, " which deals with how members form opinions on Toastmaster clubs based on any number of small episodes such as if they were greeted at the door, did the meeting start on time, were they invited to join, etc.  I find the speech as prepared to be a total snore. "Greet guests warmly and by name." --Really? I have to explain that to people? How about using a little common sense...

So I've "done a Dena" and jazzed up the speech, adding personal examples and reorganizing it. I'm still bored with the topic but I've at least got it to a level I find acceptable.  And that's the key to any speech--make it your own. I have a slight advantage in that I'm peppy and  compensate for lack of interesting content through sheer force of personality. But that's cheating and something I try not to rely too heavily upon. 

So about 90 minutes today will be spent periodically practicing a 15-minute speech. After this, I've got one more speech to do to reach my Competent Leader designation (and how about that--could it be more bland? Might as well congratulate members on reaching barely mediocre status.  I think we should have titles like, "Worthy of Leading World Domination I" status.") and 2 more speeches to reach my Advanced Toastmaster, Bronze designation for having given 20 prepared speeches.

Think of me tomorrow when I'll be reminding people to "greet guests warmly" and "start meetings on time." I just hope my teleprompter works...