Special note: I’ve had a Big Blog Blow-Up this holiday. All my plug-ins and comments etc are in total disarray. I bought ‘Blogging For Dummies’ and am reading as fast as I can. With my meager knowledge and Summer’s help I plan to have my next (real) blog up and to my subscribers by Jan 11th 2012.
I will also list the winner of a phone session with me, pulled randomly from the comments that some of you were able to get to me last month.
Thank you for your patience.
In the meantime….to hold you over, here’s just a little something that happened in my life over the holidays.
Jim and the Cat Butter
My brother Jim calls at eight p.m. and says he’s coming to see me. He arrives exhausted and with a bag of food from his restaurant tucked under his arm.
He tells me he hasn’t slept for 24 hours.
“Last night I had to paint the door red and it wouldn’t dry so I couldn’t shut it so I had to stay up all night and wait for it. I just couldn’t walk off and let the burglars in my place.”
He’s messing around in the kitchen, getting stuff from my refrigerator for his sandwich.
I’m in my pajamas on the couch, paying attention to the TV.
Jim brings his meal into the living room and settles into a big chair. He eats and finishes his sandwich.
I get up to get a glass of water. On the kitchen counter, I see the butter tub. The lid is off and the tub is empty. Ummmm?
I say, “Jim? Why is this butter thing empty?”
“Oh, I used the butter on my sandwich,” he says. “I guess I used it all.”
I am silent. Then I bend over in the dark of the kitchen, behind the center counter and laugh and laugh but only inside myself as I can’t let Jim hear me.
Jim has a massive germ phobia. This is why it’s safe to eat at his restaurant. Everything shines because it’s always clean.
As a grown man he can’t touch Jack In The Box door handles or escalator rails. He is very clean and perfect with his clothes, himself and his life.
This phobia came upon him when he was a little kid and fell in duck poop. He was grinning as we kids were chasing him, and he slipped in the stuff and landed teeth-first into the brown slime. This, he says, is where he got his germ phobia.
Oh, I’m going to choke behind this kitchen counter. I can’t tell Jim what he just ate. He ate the cat butter. He ate the butter I use to mop up the crushed cat pills that I feed to the cat. The butter is full of old wet cat food and cat slobber. And maybe a few of those crushed pills.
I can’t tell Jim what he’s eaten but I hope he lives through the night.
He sits watching TV and I watch him. He’s so innocent. So unaware. There must have been at least five or six different strains of very old watery cat food in that butter. And saliva. And kitchen counter bacteria.
If I told him what he just ate Jim would have a huge anxiety attack. He’d jump up from the chair, go pale, grab his throat and start screaming. He’s very emotional.
He’d walk in circles in my living room saying, “I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe you let me eat that! I can’t believe this has happened! Why do things like this always happen in my life?”
He looks at me and says, “You’re all smiley tonight.”
I say, “Yes, I am.”
“Something good happen?”
How do you answer that question?
Sometimes it’s just better not to tell everything you know.
This is one of those times.
An idea: If you like my posts please consider emailing them on using the Email a Friend link above. Or share it on Facebook. I am doing my best to add a little cheer to the world. (Ok, well, with the unsuspecting help of my family and friends!)