My parents are coming! Yipee!!

Of course, this means I have to do some massive cleaning to eliminate as much cat hair and dust as possible for my sensitive mommy. We have decided to spoil them on their visit at let them sleep in the room with the air conditioning. I have decided to start on at the bottom and work my way up so today was the big push to finish the basement. For the last few days, only one very small patch of floor was visible. Unless a cat/dog was sitting there and then the entire are was one big jumble of stuff.

And let me tell you, I have the stuff. Most is tagged for Goodwill but some items have been tossed into the every growing ebay pile. The people at the post office know me now since I go in just about every day to mail stuff. But, I like money so it’s worth it.

I know I say no more but I’ll see some totally cute (and completely useless) knick-nack in the store and give in. Then I bring it home, realize I have no space for it, and throw it into the basement. I’ve found some things still in the bag with the price tag on it. Unopened. How sad is that?

I’m off to hit the bathrooms next. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

I survived paintball. Well, mostly survived. I am currently unable to lift my arms or complete any walking motion without crying out in pain. Thankfully, my tv remote finger was unaffected by the experience. I am hopeful to regain full body function sometime in the future.

I almost didn’t play paintball. We drove for miles into eastern Oregon and ended up on a 30 acre plot of forest. In the dirt parking lot, I took a look at the site and told Kevin to keep on diving. The lot was filled with men in full camouflage. I’m talking boots, pants, shirts, and hats. All carrying black guns and black face masks. This did not look good.

It was quite easy to find our group. We were the only people with a) women and b) normal clothes on. Kat dragged me from the car with the good news that if I played, they’d have enough people for a private game. So I checked in, was issued a gun and ammo belt, and proceeded to the first field.

Now, I used to love playing capture the flag. That’s a great game and so long as you stayed on your side of the field, you were safe. If you did venture to the other side, you were tagged out with a mere touch. Not so with paintball as I quickly learned. Standing still on your side does nothing. This merely makes it easy for someone to run up behind a tree and peg you in the shoulder. Trust me, I have the bruise to show for it.

So the next game, I tried a new tactic. I spent the whole time crouched behind brush, scrambling from mound to mound, and shooting wildly at anything that moved. I hit a lot of leaves that were innocently blowing in the wind and learned my second lesson. If you can’t aim, you’re dead. So when Greg ran past me with the flag, all I could do was shoot wildly around him. I think my closest shot grazed the tree 5 feet above him.

But I kept trying. Unlike capture the flag tag style, there’s a real incentive to try in this game. Once the ref yells go, everything goes crazy. You hear shots fired and the trees around your explode with paint. This inspires you to drop. You then hear someone running toward you yelling “She’s right behind the tree, shot her!” This inspires you to run. You then see someone peeking around a bush. They don’t see you. But they will. This inspires you to shoot them. By the end of the game, I was shaking with adrenaline and laughing my butt off. Getting shot hurt and was a surprise, but it was also fun.

We had a really nice group of guys who didn’t yell at your for being too slow or missing a shot. Everyone played fairly but hard. Even us girls were worth something as Kat (my paintball idol) managed to capture and run the flag home twice. Yours truely never actually saw the flag in any game but they gave me points for trying.

Would I do it again? With the right group, sure. But I think I’ve found the fountain of young single men. So long as you don’t mind dirt, fatigues, and guns that is. My only regret is that I didn’t get to shot Kevin. He made sure to always be on the same team as me. He says he was looking out for me. I think he was afraid I’d hunt him down and riddle him the hot pink paint.

Oh dear, I appear to have lost feeling in my left thigh. I’m going to hobble off now while I still can. Enjoy your Monday!

It has been too hot to write. Anything that generates heat, be it lights, computer or the stove, has been boycotted. I don’t know how I used to survive California summers. I guess since I always lived near the beach I had a nice ocean breeze to keep things manageable. Since moving to Portland, I have become a real heat wimp so anything over 80 and I start to whilt. (I have developed a real resistance to molding which has been quite useful.)

However, since my parents are coming to visit next week, we installed a little air conditioning unit in the guest bedroom. So the last few days, I have been sprawled out on the trundle bed panting. Poor Artie, I can’t imagine trying to live through this heat with a fur coat on.

Today the heat wave broke and we are back to normal which is good because tomorrow I’m going to play paintball. Josh is turning the big 3-0 and Kat has put together a full day. Paintball in the morning, luau at night. Josh is amazingly laid back about the whole thing. I’ve tried but have been unable to rattle him about being so very very old. I’m a bit uneasy about the whole paintball thing. They reassured me that it won’t hurt to get hit but I’m doubtful. If I do receive any injuries, I will let you know. I just have a very bad feeling about the whole thing but we’ll see.

Hope you enjoy your Friday!

I’ve reached a new level of staying homedom. I’ve begun talking to my plants. The most interesting part is that I’ve discovered I’m harboring multiple personalities.

For the kitties, I treat them like very small babies. They pretty much do what they want, when they want, and only pay attention to me when I have food. This seems very much what small babies do. Play in their own world until they want something from you and then they cry. My girls cry and climb in your lap and scratch your face until you wake up yelling “alright, I’ll feed you already.” I don’t have a child but I think this might be somewhat similar.

With Artie, I’m drill sargent. “Get out of the garbage.” “Don’t eat that cat.” “Stop biting the mailman.” “Don’t jump.” “Sit.” “Stay.” And rewards are strangely military too with a firm pat on the head and a loud “good dog”.

But today I discovered a new personality with my indoor plants. With them, I become God. When I water them, I’ll often say “torrential downpour! Massive flooding! Monsoon season!” Sometimes, if I’m lazy, I’ll walk by a wilting plant and whisper “drought” if I don’t feel like pulling out the watering can. I’m quite sure that if the plant could understand me, they’d think I was some sort of weather God since whatever I say happens. My personal favorite is to yell “eclipse!” and close the curtains. That one just cracks me up. I’m not sure how long I’ve been doing this but I must say I’m rather surprised at my God complex. I mean, it’s just not like to me to be such a dictator.

Dang, I still can’t say that with a straight face. Gotta run, I have an orchid that’s going to be ending a 2 week drought with a light mist.

It ain’t easy being me.

So today I learned that a wedding ring is not about the size of the diamond. Who knew?

There are two times I take off my wedding rind. When I get really mad at Kevin and when working with raw meat. I hate having to wash out all the pieces of raw animal flesh from around my diamond so I usually just take it off. While I am very good about remembering to take my ring off, I’m not so hot with remembering to put it back on.

This morning I dressed for my usual dog walk – cut offs, t-shirt, flip flops and dog. I usually get a comment or two about Artie because he’s such an unusual dog. Mostly, this involves large men in undershirts grunting, “that’s a fine lookin’ dog yous got thar” at me from their front porch. Very rarely do women ask me about him and when I tell them he’s part pit bull, they usually clutch their children tight and clam up quickly.

So we’re strolling down the street when this truck slows down and the man driving says to me, “Nice dog, what is he?”

“Part pit bull, part catahoula.” I reply.

“Cata-what?”

“Catahoula, it’s a hunting dog.”

“Oh, well, he sure looks nice.” Pause. “I see you’re not wearing a wedding ring, can I give you my card. Maybe we could go shoot some pool or something this weekend?”

He was right. My ring was sitting in the kitchen clean and totally useless to me. And my big ferocious dog was mesmerized by a large and obviously good smelling tree trunk. I kept waiting for him to launch himself at the truck and save me but no dice.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I said with a laugh.

“It’s just a card. Come on, I’m a nice guy. And I like your little feet.”

That got me laughing. I’ve heard my fair share of pick-up lines but never have my feet been involved. Admittedly, I do have bizarrely small feet. My family constantly teases me about them. The fact that this guy picked something other than my smile or eyes (which seem to be the basis of 99.9% of G rated pick up lines) caught me off guard so I took his card, smiled, and walked on my way.

Come on, we should reward the guys who have decent lines, right? And yes, I am now wearing my ring like a good little wife, thank you very much.

For those of you who don’t know, today is Pamper Chrissie Day. (For some reason, most major calendars forget to mark this holiday. Go figure.) I lay in bed this morning for an extra half hour to plan the festivities.

First, I will set up my lawn chair in the back yard. Next, I will cut myself an obscenely large piece of chocolate cake for breakfast. Armed with my book, a cup of coffee and a dab of suntan lotion (just like my mom taught me), I will proceed to bask in the sunlight for a few hours. Mother Nature remembed Pamper Chrissie Day and has sent in the sunshine so all appears to be moving according to plan.

After a few hours of relaxing in the sun, I will return inside to take a nice nap on the sofa with my dog. All that sunshine will make me sleepy I’m sure. Probably another piece of chocolate cake to tide me over till dinner and voila! Another successful Pamper Chrissie Day!

Is this the life or what?