Unprocrastination day

Today is my unprocrastination day. It is the day where I will attempt to accomplish all those things I have procrastinated doing over the EIGHT other days of spring break. Blogging was not in the day, but I refuse to call blogging procrastinating. My lunch is cooking, so this is multi-tasking. :)

The idea of unprocrastination day came from the April issue of Real Simple, my most favorite magazine in the entire universe. The bf got me a subscription for Christmas because he loves me and listens to me... when I complain about not getting the magazine from my secret santa at work when I SPECIFICALLY wrote it on the sheet and underlined it. Twice. But I digress.

Anyway, I have scheduled my entire day. And while the list of tasks I have seems daunting (at least to me), when looking it over I realized all these tasks mean I am immensely blessed.

Going to church means I live in a country where I am free to worship the god I choose.

Washing dishes means I have food to eat.

Having an electric diswasher wash them for me is just ridiculous.

Washing multiple loads of laundry means I have plenty of clothes to wear.

Researching for my graduate paper means I have an education.

Grading papers and writing lesson plans means I have a job.

Paying rent and putting in a service request means I have a place to live and people to help me keep up my home.

Taking out the disgusting, smelly cat litter means I have two animals who I love and sometimes love me back.

It also means I have the money to take care of two animals.

Painting a portrait of a dog means that people think I am talented enough... to pay me to paint their dog.

Preparing a print of one of my latest works means someone wants to own my art.

My to-do list means I'm blessed.

Bubba's Patio Critter Feeding Station

My father in his old"er" age has decided to make pets of all the stray animals in the neighborhood. Here's a video of a possum and a pair of mated grey foxes. At the end the momma stuffs her mouth full of cornbread to bring home to her litter.

That's right- every night my dad makes cornbread for the foxes.

so THIS is how I get cat hair in my purse

Laundry

I don't know what it is about fresh laundry... I'm sure the heat from the dryer has something to do with it, and I read somewhere that cats are obsessed with anything that doesn't smell like "home". (Case in point, Razzle with a sneaker.)

Well today was laundry day (laundry weekend), and as I started to fold I caught this.

Tough life this guy has. Really tough.

Pretty Poison

Oops. They only ate some leaves, so everything should be ok.

Thanks to http://cats.about.com/od/catsafety/ss/toxicplants_5.htm

Big Box and Maru

This made me smile and smile. I have a Maru of my own... but Razzle has about 10 lbs on her.

Razzle in her lighter days:Maru:

Half Ton Gato

Razzle

I've been watching the TLC Half Ton marathon for the past couple of hours... because nothing cures nausea from a New Year's hangover like watching 60 lbs get lanced off some fat kid's abdomen.

If you're not familiar with the Half Ton series, it follows "super" obese people, their struggle with weight, their eventual gastric bypass surgery, and their varying levels of success. "Super" obese people are heavier than the "morbidly" obese- meaning these men, women, and children weigh up to 1,000 lbs... quite literally a half ton each.

The Half Ton episode that impacted me this evening was Half Ton Teen, the story of a 19 year-old boy named Billy who weighed over 800 lbs. His extreme weight at such a young age was alarming enough, but what really broke the camel's back (so to speak) was his relationship with his mother. This woman coddled and spoiled her child like nothing I have ever seen, and I watch The Real Housewives of Orange County. I think we can all agree that most parents spoil their children because they love them and want the best for them, but with all the excess, parents who spoil are harming their children. It makes me sick and it makes me sad... and it leads me to judge.

Which brings me to Razzle.

In 2006 I adopted Razzle from the Coppell Humane Society. She was a member of the "Lonely Hearts Club", which is a nice way of saying nobody wanted her. Razzle gets along with other cats pretty well- she's just afraid of people. She's practically feral.

You know what she's not afraid of? Food. Razzle must weigh 20 lbs. I don't know for certain because there's no picking that animal up. I'm nursing a wound to my palm (stigmata?) for trying. Her brother, who eats the same low-calorie cat food, weighs a healthy 12 lbs.

Razzle is what the vet calls a "snacker." She visits the food bowl multiple times a day- after getting petted, after using the litter box, after taking a nap. My cat is constantly eating. To combat this, my vet advised I put the bowl down for only 10 minutes, twice daily. At first the cats won't understand, but once they get hungry they will learn to eat what they need for the day or night in 10 minute's time.

I've tried this before and it seemed to be working. So how did Razzle fall off the wagon?

Her momma.

See, the fact of the matter is- it's simply easier to put down that bowl and be done with it, just like it's easier for "Half Ton" Billy's mother to drive through Burger King instead of prepare him a healthy meal. And as much as it pains me to hear Razzle meow constantly for food, it must be infinitely more difficult for Billy's mother to deny her child... even if that is what's needed to save his life.

I need to go put up cat bowl.

Everybody cut, everybody cut!

What should you do if you discover your college pet was put to sleep two weeks ago? Apparently the answer is to grab a bottle of wine and cut Footloose!

I would like to thank HBO Family's 3am scheduling, Kenny Loggins, and Kevin Bacon for getting me through this difficult time.

NO KITTY! BAD KITTY!

My cats are driving me up the wall. Yep, I'm blogging about my cats. I'm the crazy cat lady blogger. Get over it.

For those of you who don't know me or who have never been to my apartment because your cat allergy is so severe you would scratch your eyes out (you know who you are), let me introduce you to CJ and Razzle. They get along really well. Razzle is the obese tabby and the bane of my existence. CJ is the crippled orange tabby and the bane of my existence.

If you think I am exaggerating, let me give you some examples of how my life may be different than some of yours solely because I own cats.

I have to tape down the switch to my garbage disposal.
That's right. Last year I was sitting in my living room when I was startled by the sound of my garbage disposal going off. It took me a second to figure out what the sound was, then another couple of seconds to realize how it came on. It's a good thing three seconds wasn't long enough to burn up the motor or for Idiot Orange to lose a tail.

I can't leave anything on any surface in my apartment lower than 6 feet. Period.
I mean, I could, but doing so puts said object in risk of being pushed off and broken, laid on, scratched, licked, eaten... or all of the above. I've lost term papers and irreplaceable Slovak crystal this way, along with a myriad of meals and drinks.

I can't stay in bed past 7:00 am. Ever.
I have a feline alarm clock. This might come as a shock to you, but Razzle doesn't miss a meal. She gets fed twice a day, usually around 7 am and 7 pm. If it's too much later than 7 am and Razzle doesn't have food in her bowl, she will not stop meowing until I get up. And I understand- she's a lot like her momma in that sense. The difference is, given the option, most times momma would prefer to sleep off that hangover rather than eat breakfast.

Basically, I live with two toddlers that will never go up.

Even with these the annoyances, I obviously love my kitties. I would probably rescue every stray cat I saw if I could. But I've had a total of 7 hours sleep this weekend (more on that later), and if I have to tell them to stop fighting one more time...