Promoting Mediocrity

The little boy I'm taking care of had a soccer game last Saturday and when I asked him who won, he said that his team won 5 to 0, but only because his team wasn't allowed to score any more points after 5. I kept asking him to repeat this because I didn't understand why they couldn't score any more points, and he said:

"When the winning team scores five points and the other team hasn't scored yet we have to stop at five. If we score 6, the other team automatically wins the game."

I really couldn't wrap my brain around this and then he told me the kicker:

"AND when we get to five, we're not allowed to go on our half of the field anymore. It's called SPORTSMANSHIP."

"Noooooo, that's not what SPORTSMANSHIP is. That's called RIDICULOUS. I mean, those sucky teams know that they're sucky, right?"

"Of course, YEAH."

"I mean, wouldn't it just make them feel even suckier that the winning team has to STOP PLAYING SOCCER? If you were on the losing team, wouldn't you feel COMPLETELY EMBARRASSED?"

"Yup."

I know what it's like to be on a losing team. I went to a total nerd high school. A nerd high school that had a basketball team which was completely trounced by the opposing team during each and every game. The question wasn't whether or not we would win the game, it was: Are we going to lose by thirty points or sixty points?

And yet, our boys went out there and did the best they could. Sure, none of them went on to play for the Knicks, but they went out there and we cheered them on and we got ridiculously happy when we only lost by 20 points.

Are we so afraid of hurting our kids' feelings that we're going to change the rules of the game so that they won't feel so bad losing by fifteen points?

All of a sudden, it completely makes sense to me that when I was teaching at that lovely coed Catholic College in Lower Westchester, the students would neglect to turn in assignments or show up for class and still expect me to pass them. Parents don't make their kids face the very real truths and sometimes those truths are about themselves.

Parents are afraid to say:
No, you are NOT an excellent soccer player. GET OVER IT.

The county's slogan may as well be, "Westchester, Building Mediocrity, One Child at a Time."

I mean, c'mon Westchester! All your kids are going to grow up completely gutless and useless! Am I the only person that thinks this way?

Conversation With My Sister

"Ooooooohhhhhhh! Scout and Rocky have been lying down on our sofa!"

"Why aren't they allowed on the sofa?"

"Oy. We'd like them to, but we totally got the WRONG type of sofa. It's sort of a velour-ish Restoration Hardware sofa that keeps every little hair and shows spittle. We didn't think it through and now it's too late and it's easier to keep the dogs off the sofa than to clean it every second."

"Why don't you lock the dogs up in the kitchen?"

"Because ever since we've tried to toilet-train the cat, we don't want her to jump over to our living room in case she's looking to pee into our potted plants. When the dogs are in the living room, she won't hop over. But now I'm going to have to put stuff on the sofa so the dogs don't get on it. But I hate the way the sofa looks when there's stuff all over it and I always forget to put stuff on it when I'm leaving the house."

"When did your life get this complicated?"

I Like New Cars

Peter and I recently purchased a brand-new car and I've come upon a new theory of car-owning. I used to be a strong believer in the buy-a-car-and-drive-it-into-the-ground school of car ownership. That way you get the best bang for the buck. But THEN we got a BRAND-NEW CAR! And I LOVE driving a BRAND-NEW CAR! If we only buy a car whenever one craps out, then how many cars does one get to buy in a lifetime? 4 or 5 if you live a very long time?

It might not be very frugal (and it does sting a bit to do something that isn't saving me some money every second of every day), but maybe buying a new car every 5 years isn't a bad idea. That way, you're always driving around in a relatively new car. If you have only one life to live, isn't it nice to be able to go around driving new cars all the time?

After much deliberation, we decided on a Galaxy Gray Honda Civic. Although we DID NOT purchase it at the Mount Kisco Honda because MT. Kisco Honda SUCKS!! We also didn't buy it at the White Plains Honda because they foisted us off on this nineteen-year-old salesperson who we could tell was completely not given any authority to give us any deals on pricing. We bought it at the Yonkers Honda because they knocked $1500 off the price we were given at the White Plains Honda. So yeah, we got it under MSRP!

(Side note: Why is it that whenever we ask a salesperson about the Honda Element's windshield cracking problem and if they've fixed it in the newer models, they tell us that they've "never heard about it." Aren't salespeople supposed to be kept apprised of law suits filed against Honda and the many complaints about a car that they are supposed to be selling?)

We were told that Galaxy Gray is to be discontinued, so we thought we were getting a car color not many people have.

Hmmm. I've already almost tried to open the door of TWO other Galaxy Gray Honda Civics.

Peter said that it was probably the same person.

The same person at the CVS and then a few days later at Trader Joe's? Are we living parallel lives? I don't think so.

Although one time my mother opened the door to another green Jeep Cherokee, sat in the driver's seat and thought it was so strange that someone left a whole bunch of trash on the passenger seat. It took her a few moments before she realized that this was NOT HER CAR.

Well, if you happen to see a girl trying valiantly to open the door to your Galaxy Gray Honda Civic, just give her a few minutes, and please don't get mad.

Pain in the Ass Toilet Training

When Peter and I adopted this stray kitten, I knew that I wanted to train her to use the toilet. I had read a really long article years ago about a woman who had trained her cat to do this and it completely fascinated me and I thought, "How cool would it be to have a cat that uses a toilet?"

So a few weeks ago I purchased a system called "The Litter Kwitter," which guarantees to work in 8 weeks to get your cat to use the toilet so there will be no more cleaning up of litter.

The thing is, this kitten likes to paw at the litter all day long. Sometimes she'll just climb up to the toilet and paw the litter so that it is scattered all over the bathroom floor. This wouldn't have been as big a problem in our old place where we had 2 bathrooms and a bath area which was closed off from the toilet areas, but now we only have ONE bathroom, which I like to keep relatively clean and this is DRIVING ME INSANE.

We've also discovered that if you leave a bathmat or accidentally unhooked your bath towel from its place, the kitten will use this opportunity to pee on those things, which is SO GROSS.

Plus, we are encouraged to give the kitty treats when she does do the right thing, but whenever I give her a treat, she FREAKS OUT because when my sister Jenny came over, Jenny gave the kitty a treat, which caused Rocky to LUNGE AT THE CAT. So now she equates delicious kitty treats with MURDER.

But I'm looking forward to a day in which she will be able to just use the toilet, but I can now understand why there are many many people on the litter kwitter forums who have given up.

And just the fact that I am checking something called a litter kwitter forum every day just goes to show you how pathetic my life is right now.

Unpacking

"You have a copy of the Bush/Dukakis debate on tape?"

"Uhmm... Yeah... But don't look at that."

"Why not?"

"Because it might have turned into porn."

Not Sure I Fit In

I found a job which fits into my schedule and gives me a little bit of spending money. For the past week I've been picking up a child after school and babysitting him until his mom or dad gets home. I figure that this will give me a good opportunity to chat up some of the local moms and get tutoring gigs in the future.

I don't want to sound really snotty, but I really don't get the stay-at-home moms I've met. One mom spent about half and hour recounting each and every item of clothing her daughter tried on at The Gap to her friend, who seemed to hang on her every word. It was kind of like a really boring mommy blog, except I was witnessing it in real time, which made it even more boring.

She probably does that because she can't differentiate between what is interesting and what is NOT INTERESTING. I feel sorry for people like that because they create really boring blogs.

It's a strange dynamic, being "the babysitter" or "nanny." Peter does NOT like it. He said that he doesn't like the idea of people seeing me in that way and looking down on me. I don't really care what people think and I actually look at it as a good way to inform my writing in case I decide to write about a really boring stay-at-home mom one day.

I like the kid I care for and the mom, but I don't know where I fit in with the other moms. Do I sit with them or not? Do I talk to them or not? Some of the moms DO NOT even acknowledge my presence. It's a bit strange. I'm not sure if I really hate it or not so I may not do it for very long.

Television Seats

When my sister agreed to dog and cat-sit for us, we neglected to mention the fact that we no longer have a television. Her reaction was:

"WHAT?!"

(big pause)

"But...You have THE INTERNET, don't you?"

Our saving grace is that Peter is a web developer, so yes, we do have THE INTERNET.

When her friends found out that she was dog-sitting, they all said, "So...Watching a lot of television, huh?"

"They haven't gotten around to buying one yet, so right now all their furniture is facing the wall that the television is going to be, but right now is just a blank wall."

"No television? What do they do?"

"I guess they, uhm, TALK to each other."

"TALK TO EACH OTHER? Why the fuck would they want to do that?"

The funny thing is that the other day, we were sitting around. I was reading a magazine and Peter was sitting on the sofa, the sofa that faces the large blank wall and Peter says, "This is nice, I like this. What do you think about not getting a television?"

I looked at him and said, "Yeah, I think it's a great idea."

The second that came out of my mouth, my mind flashed through all the episodes of Project Runway I missed, the fact that I didn't get to watch any of the summer Olympics this year, and PUSHING DAISIES! I need to watch Pushing Daisies! At least until they cancel it since no one else is watching it.

So then I said. "Maybe we'll get a television and I'll promise not to watch it as much."

Things to Look Up on Google

During our road trips, Peter and I spend about 90% of the time talking. And when we go down to Florida, we jibber-jabber about the randomest things such as, "Are armadillos mammals?"

And of course, being that it's a road trip, we don't have Google handy. So many random facts are now so easily found out through Google that in the future, there will be no more, "It's on the tip of my tongue"-syndromes -- it will be replaced by Googledom.

One billboard I saw coming back up from Florida was a HUGE sign that had a smiling Colonel Sanders and the words KFC BUFFET in ten-foot-long letters.

"KFC Buffet?" I said to Peter. "IS THAT ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT KFC?"

"Why?" Peter said. "What's the big deal?"

"KFC is like twenty dollars for a bucket of chicken."

"No way."

"Way."

"It's fast-food? Nothing is that expensive."

"What do you know? You haven't had bought a bucket of KFC chicken in twenty years."

"I never liked KFC."

"Correction. What do you know? You've NEVER bought a bucket of chicken."

Ballsy

My sister Jenny took care of the dogs during our impromptu end-of-summer vacation right before Peter starts work. It was pretty nice having someone whose diapers you used to change could every actually become useful.

The only thing I worried about was that the cat and her habit of just blithely sauntering into a room the dogs were in and then go apeshit with hissy fits because they are there. Jenny told us that the cat would go into the bedroom and sleep in the same room as the dogs. To this, Jenny said, and I quote:

"That cat is ballsy!"

Yup, until the night Jenny called me up at 1am to tell me, "Emily Mortimer ALMOST DIED!"

Apparently, everyone was sitting around getting along and while Jenny was giving the cat a treat, Rocky decided it was a good idea to take a chomp out of Emily Mortimer and he went right for her. Luckily, she got away.

When I found out about this, I was so upset, and then I realized, "Hey! I'm getting ATTACHED. I guess this means that we're going to keep her."

What We'll Put Up With

Peter and I are so desperate for a different place to eat that we actually followed the advice of someone at chowhound.com and tried Stanz Cafe in Larchmont.

It was pretty great. It's a cute little breakfast place and I got a sandwich while Peter ordered the pancakes. As I was eating one of the best sandwiches I have ever eaten and Peter was eating one of the best pancakes he's ever had, we see a HUGE ROACH crawling around on the floor right by his foot.

"Uh. Oh," I said.

Peter looked at it and then at me and asked, "Should we be worried?"

"I mean, it's a restaurant. All restaurants have roaches."

"Yeah, but should they be the size of my hand?"

"I say that we give this place one more chance. If the NEXT TIME we come here, we don't see a roach, then it's fine."

"Wow. Are we really that desperate for a new place to eat in Westchester that we're willing to put up with this?"

My Friend Went to Tanzania and All She Brought Back Was This Stupid URL

I have given a lot of gifts in my lifetime, but I have never given away a website. My sister met the "male her" during her trip to Tanzania this summer and for his birthday she gave him the URL to my blog.

"You gave him my blog for his birthday? Wow, you're cheap. It's FREE ON THE INTERNET."

"Yeah, and he LOVED IT."

I'm sure it provided him with minutes of entertainment.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Bryan-spelled-with-a-Y!

She's A Good Girl

Today we listened as the kitty used her litterbox, as she does every night. She then very diligently and for several minutes, paws at the box and sweeps up any loose litter on the floor with her paws into a neat little line.

"She's a good girl," I said.

And then Peter said, "So why do I hate her?"

Hostage

There are many ways cats are different than dogs.

1. Cats do not come when called.
2. Cats will bite you for no reason.
3. Cats will scratch at you for no reason.
4. Cats hiss.
5. Cats will meow and pace around at night.
6. Cats will not play with the toys you give them.
7. Cats will jump up and knock over your orange jewelry box.

Conclusion?

Cats are kinda jerky.

I am a dog person, I've always been a dog person and whenever I meet people with cats and not dogs, I understand that the cat is just a placeholder until they can get a real dog.

Now that there's a cat living in this apartment, I discover that I am still a dog person. I think this cat is very cute, but she is not cuddly. She is super-smart and I like her very much, but I just don't know if I can form a very close bond with a creature who hides under Peter's desk 95 percent of the time. And even when she comes out for a few minutes, the second she hears a pin drop, she's ready to run back under his desk.

We're giving her some time to adjust to living in a space with us, but we can't help but feel like we're terrorists and she's our hostage. Every once in a while, I wonder if she'd rather be out in the world as a stray cat. Does she sit around trying to figure out a way to get out? When she looks out the window, does she want to tear out the screen and head for the hills?

She doesn't seem to like Peter, which is a bad thing, because he's the one that feeds her and takes care of her litterbox. She's still TERRIFIED of the dogs, who really don't do anything but look at her through the divider. Rocky looks with interest. Scout looks at her with concern. She doesn't seem to be afraid of Scout, but hisses at Rocky whenever he turns his head at her. The only person the cat seems to like is me and I'm not the cat person, Peter is. She better start learning which side her bread is buttered because Peter is getting a little tired of her hissy fits.

Not Listening

Peter: What was it that you were saying about the plumbers tomorrow? When you were talking about that in the car, I was listening to the baseball game.

Me: That they were going to be here at 9am?

Peter: Glad I asked.

Me: So you didn't hear a word I said during the car ride?

Peter: Uhm...nope. But you just told me now, so we're good.

Me: Riiiiight.

Fancy Microwave

There are two types of shoppers, there's the person who likes to research and scope out stores and track down the best price for an item -- that's me -- and there's the other type of shopper, someone who will buy something just because it's right there -- that's Peter.

That item can be the suckiest blender/food processor/fan/air conditioner in the world, but if it's at the Lowe's while we're shopping for a replacement hacksaw blade, then that's the item he's going to want to buy IMMEDIATELY because IT'S RIGHT HERE AND I'M ALREADY HOLDING IT.

Needless to say, we've gotten into a lot of heated arguments at stores because I want to go home and ask the crystal ball I call THE INTERNET and ask it if it's a good idea to purchase that $35 blender from Target (the answer was no). But Peter wants to get his credit card and put $35 on it on a blender that will fall apart the second time he uses it.

And I completely understand why he wants to just buy the blender. Because then WE WILL HAVE A BLENDER AND CAN USE IT TONIGHT. And I'm all -- BUT IT MAY BREAK THE VERY NEXT DAY. LET'S WAIT TO BUY ONE THAT WILL LAST A FEW YEARS.

I was raised by extremely frugal parents. Parents who taught me that it was best to save up to buy things IN CASH and be careful how you spend your money. These are people who showed me their booklet of mortgage payment slips instead of reading me bed-time stories.

Peter, on the other hand, was raised by a woman who will buy Hummel dolls as an investment, a person who thinks that "credit card" is synonymous to "free money." In other words, Peter was raised by a RENTER. Not that there's anything wrong with renting, but I wouldn't advise you to do it for sixty-five years.

But I am trying to be better about it. Being with Peter has taught me to bend a little more and to compromise. Sometimes it's better for me to pick my battles. A few days ago, we went to Sears to purchase a microwave that I had researched -- a $200 microwave that would suit our needs just fine. Unfortunately, Sears was out of that particular microwave. But they did have a $350 microwave that had a "browning feature" that was good for "melting cheese."

This is probably a feature that we would never use, a feature that no microwave really needs, but this microwave, the one that cost nearly double what we had planned out in our microwave budget was the one that was in stock, so Peter wanted to take it home.

And I didn't even argue with him. That's love, people.

Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Property Managers

I'm sure that mothers everywhere want the best things in life for their children. What's the point of gestating a baby for nine months, raising them through childhood and paying for their college tuition just so they can grow up to be the property manager of our new coop apartment? I'm sure the mother of our property manager asks herself this question every single day of her life.

Right before we closed on our apartment, we did what the real estate biz calls a "walk-through." Which is basically a formality of walking through the apartment, making sure that everything turns on and nothing has fallen apart from the time you looked at it and the day you are officially the new owner.

This is usually a formality, but during our walk-through, water was leaking everywhere -- out of the bathroom sink, gallons of water poured from the dishwasher and the bottom of the kitchen sink, it was a NIGHTMARE.

Of course I got completely freaked out and I was literally shaking as I sat in the law office where our closing was scheduled. When my attorney walked in, I told her that I needed to speak to her privately, and when I told her the problem, she said to me, "Well, there's nothing you can do about this. We're closing right now."

Just so you know, don't hire our real estate attorney. (I won't mention names, but her initials are CM and she works out of Mount Kisco). This was the last thing I needed to hear, especially from someone we pay to be OUR advocate. Because I ended up having to do the negotiations to get the seller's attorney to ensure that this stuff would be fixed -- while our attorney was chit-chatting with the bank's attorney about the last time they all went fishing together. At one point, the seller's attorney (who was the building's attorney, since we bought the unit straight from the building) said, "That sounds to me like it's just a gasket. Sometimes when a sink isn't used for a few months, the gasket gets loose."

My useless attorney who still uses an aol mail account for her law business says, "Yeah, y'know it's probably a GASKET."

I was shaking with anger at this point and I'm usually a very nice person, but push me to this limit and all I can say is that I let her HAVE IT. I turned to her and said in a very slow and calm voice, "I would appreciate it if you don't try to ARGUE FOR THE OTHER SIDE. You are OUR ATTORNEY. I would appreciate it if you would SIDE WITH US."

A hush fell over the whole room.

FINALLY, we got it sorted out that the building would take care of the plumbing issues, which is all we wanted. I don't know who they sent, but we're still having trouble with our bathroom sink and the water from our kitchen tap comes out hot -- on both sides. It's been about a month since closing and just yesterday some new plumbers came over and took a look under the kitchen sink and told us that all the hook-ups were done incorrectly and that no hot water was coming into the dishwasher.

I emailed our property manager, who on his nicest day is a putz, and he didn't reply. So I called him today and asked him if he was going to give the okay to fix the dishwasher.

"I'm debating it," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked. I mean, what does he mean by that? I'm debating it? Does that mean -- yes, I know that I should have this problem fixed, but I don't want to?

"Your problem was that the dishwasher was leaking. It's not leaking anymore, is it?"

"But nothing is hooked up correctly under the sink. We're getting hot water on both taps and apparently, there's only cold water going into the dishwasher."

"That's because we got one of the newer ENERGY EFFICIENT dishwasher which has its own heating system so that you don't need to have hot water going into it."

"I know about those ENERGY EFFICIENT dishwasher and it's more ENERGY EFFICIENT to wash the dishes with HOT WATER than to have to HEAT COLD WATER to wash the dishes."

"Oh."

"I don't have a problem going to the board with this issue, I'm sure they'll side with me with the fact that you had agreed to FIX THE PROBLEM, which means not just ensuring that the dishwasher doesn't leak, but that IT WORKS."

Dealing with this property manager is kind of like dealing with my younger cousins growing up. Everything is a struggle until I say, "I'm going to tell your parents." And then all of a sudden, it's like the sun breaks out of the clouds. Because as soon as I mention going to the board, this guy is all nice as can be and all "of course we need to fix your dishwasher."

Peter's ready to call it quits with this guy and just hire our own plumber because the aggravation isn't worth it, but I'm all like, "But there's a PRINCIPLE here! THEY agreed to fix it!"

And Peter's all, "Arguing with this jerk is a WASTE OF LIFE."

Hiss and Vinegar

At this point we have had the cat almost two weeks now and she is still TERRIFIED of the dogs. We put up a divider between Peter's office and the living room so that the dogs don't go rushing into the office to try to eat her. We've also been sleeping on the sofa in the living room because we don't have a bed yet.

Yesterday, the cat decided to jump over the divider and sleep under our makeshift bed, which I didn't realize until this morning, when the dogs were sniffing under the bed and I heard hysterical hissing sounds underneath me. Peter thinks this is because she has become so attached to me that she wants to be around me, and I'm all, "So why does she hide whenever I go into the office?"

And since Peter's family has had numerous cats while he was growing up, he says, "Because she's a cat, not a dog. Hiding is what cats do."

We've discovered that this cat hisses at just about anything: vacuum cleaner, dogs, an accidental touch on the tail. Oh, and let's not forget about the dreaded BROOM. She hates that thing with a vengeance that comes straight from the dark depths of her soul. Somewhere in her short life a broom has done her a large wrong. Whenever Peter sweeps the floor in his office, she goes into conniptions.

Yesterday we went to Petsmart and bought several jingle-jangly plastic balls for her to play with and when I tossed one at her, she ran away from it and gave me a dirty look that said, "Why are you doing this to me?" I let Peter pick out the toy at the store because of his previous cat experience and he said that cats LOVE this stuff.

When she ran away, he looked at me and said, "Well, I guess this isn't going to be the first time this cat makes a liar out of me."

Moved In...Kinda

In recent days, Peter has told his mother that it's okay to call every day. She coming up against the doldrums of summer. My theory is that between Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, she's got events coming up on the horizon she can look forward to, but during the summer, it's just one long stretch of being reminded how little your older children care about you.

One mean trick Peter's sister plays on his mother is telling her that they're going to invite her to stay over soon. In my mother-in-law's vocabulary, "soon" is synonymous with "this weekend." So several weeks ago, she turned down an invitation to her grandson's bride's wedding shower in order to go to her daughter's house. And because she told Peter that she was going to Long Island that weekend, he made no plans to visit. By the way, did I ever mention that she NEVER gets invited to do anything? So the one time this millennium she got invited to something, she turned it down to keep herself free just in case her daughter just happened to feel like having her over.

So when she called that Saturday and Peter said, "I thought you weren't home this weekend," she got extremely agitated and a pus-filled vitriolic tirade flew out of her body and Peter was all, "I was gonna come by and see you, but now I'm not. Good. Bye." Okay, he didn't verbally say it because he's too nice to, but those were the undertones.

These past few days she's been leaving messages on our answering machine that go like this:

"Peter? Are you there? Are you there? Why you no call me? Are you okay? Okay...."

When he tells her that we're EXTREMELY BUSY, I don't think she gets it. So I told him today that he should bring her over here where she can sit in the one crevice that is not overtaken by boxes while I paint and he organizes his office, just so she can fully comprehend what he means by WE ARE BUSY.

The Unnamed Emily Mortimer Project

I'm so sorry that the postings have been nonexistent! We just found out last Friday that we could close on our condo yesterday, so I've been in a packing and labeling frenzy and hadn't had internet access in the last few days. PLUS we're trying to acclimate our brand-new kitty with our two dogs and let's just say that it is NOT going very well.

I wanted to name her Emily Mortimer, but since Peter hates that name, we're calling her Meow Meow, otherwise known as The Unnamed Emily Mortimer Project. Every other day I vacillate between keeping her and giving her away. She's sweet and affectionate, although a bit skittish, which is understandable since she was a stray. But she is TERRIFIED of the dogs, and yet brazen enough to jump over the pet gate just to be subjected to her terror. I guess cats are just not that bright. We might have to give her away to someone who doesn't have dogs, but we're still holding out hope that they will be able to acclimate to each other.

Anyway, we're really glad to be back in Mamaroneck! We've been going to Sal's Pizza almost every other day since our kitchen is a MESS. However, I do believe that their slices are growing smaller and smaller as we speak. Pretty soon they will be bite-sized.

A great, big, HUGE thank you to the commenter who suggested Al's Moving Company. They did a GREAT job and were the nicest movers I've ever encountered. I could write a tragic novella describing my experience with past movers (Flat Rate and Seaman's. Please, do not EVER hire Seaman's Movers. They are the sucks.)

There is tons of new news and I will post more later!

I Think She's Traumadized

Last night, at around 11pm, Peter and I got back from Borders and were bringing massive amounts of cardboard boxes (Thanks Borders Managers!) into the house, when a mewling noise caught Peter's attention. This was the same mewling noise that we have been hearing in the middle of the night.

An itty-bitty kitty came out of the darkness and went right up to Peter. He went to get me and said, "You've got to see what's out here."

Well, I did, and in about two seconds I was sitting on the floor petting and playing with the cutest kitty ever made. She looked a bit rough around the edges, but she was extremely friendly. We were kind of worried about her being out there so we decided to put her in one of Scout's kennels. We tried to lure her in with a can of cat food given to us by a nice neighbor, but when Peter finally got her close enough to push her into the kennel, she freaked out and there was cat food EVERYWHERE.

By the way, cat food smells disgusting. It kinda smells like vomit. Why do cats like to eat vomit.

As soon as we threw her into the kennel, Peter turned to me and said, "Fuck! We have a cat now!"

All through the night, we were trying to decide what to do. What if this kitty doesn't get along with the dogs? What if it's not tame enough to keep as a pet? What if we hate having a cat?

In the morning, after we got up, we went to the kennel and found the most fucked-up kitten ever created. She did not look that messed up last night, but apparently she had been thrashing herself against the kennel so badly that her nose is all bloody. One of her eyes got smaller than the other, so she looks like an insane cock-eyed-crazy-cat. And in the bright light of morning, her fur looked all mangy and messed up.

It must be kind of like when a drunk guy brings a cute girl home and in the morning, comes to discover that she's got one eye bigger than the other and she's kinda fugly.

When I said this to Peter, he said. "That's not really fair. She's had a really rough night, probably the roughest night she's every had. She's totally traumadized."

At this point, we don't know if we're going to be keeping her forever. We hope that it works out and we're trying it out for now. It's going to take a LOOOONG time before she's acclimated with us much less the dogs. I don't know if I want a cat for the next 15 years, but I kind of feel like she came up to us for a reason (even though the reason may just be that she's a kitten and that's what kittens do) and I want to see what happens.

Also, a side of me wonders if she's the reincarnation of someone I used to know. If it's my Uncle Jack, she should be a nice cat. If she's my grandmother. Hmmmm...This may get interesting.