Friday, October 24, 2014

Friday Freestyles




Thank goodness for that. For one, it is PayDay. Second, it has been a LONG week. Too much to post about. 

I have a ton of posts, and a ton of pictures. The problem is loading all these pictures. And I haven't felt like doing that.  So I may just do some abbreviated madness.

The biggest thing this week has been with your girl Callie Jo...

She is a long way from the little 0.3 pound kitten she was...

Her eyes changed color. When did that happen?  And thank goodness I don't have to clean her eyes everyday. She grew out of that.

She is 5.5 pounds now... all cat at 6 months of age.  And Wednesday she got...


She had her ovaries and uterus removed. Ugh.

It is more than a notion. Lawd have mercy, remind me to only get boy cats from now on. LAWD. Neutering is a lot less intense than spaying. Oh my!

I will write more about that ordeal next week.

Right now she is a prisoner of love.

A prisoner of love... in her Elizabethan collar. And she is NOT happy about it. Not one bit.  You can tell by the way she has thrown all that shredded paper all over the place.

More on that next week.

I also, on the same day I dropped Callie off at the vet, picked Grandma up... Well first I got a phone call.

*phone rings*
"Hey Lisa, is that you?"
"Yes," I said. I knew it was Grandma.
"The doctor called about my shoes. They said they are in"
"Uh okay," I said, as I remembered that she ordered a pair when I took her to the podiatrist last month.
"The doctor said my shoes are ready," she repeated.
"Okay," I said. "You have another appointment in a couple of weeks. We can get them then."
"But my shoes," she said again. "The doctor say they are ready."

So you know what this means... Grandma's shoes were IN and she wanted them as soon as possible.

So we went and picked up her shoes. This is a serious trek, as Grandma walks as slow as Tim Conway.

So I picked her up...

 Look at her... She was ready in her sweats and pullover windbreaker. I got there at around 8:45 am after dropping off Callie Jo for her spay. I thought I would have a couple of hours to just sit around and wait for her to get ready, but she was standing there ready. 

And we went and picked up her shoes...

Those are some good shoes. If I could slip my size 10s into her size 6s, I surely would.

And you should've seen the smile that spread across her face when she tried them on at the doctor's office. I wish I could've taken a picture. I reached down to make sure that her toes were in the right place and asked her to wiggle them. The shoes are just right for her feet.

She got up and walked around in them. It was like the scene out of Forrest Gump, when Forest walked around the office in his new leg braces (all 'cept Grandma didn't fall down).

She is happy with her shoes.

And I am glad I could take off to take her to go get them.

That was the pinnacle of my week. My feel-good moment.

And that is it for my freestyles. I don't have much going on for the weekend. I have to keep Callie Jo still for 10-14 days. That's not going to happen, but I will be eyeing her from a short distance.

I have a lot of reading to do. I came across something I have never heard of before... Fractal Geometry. It peaked my interests. I must investigate further.  I am also reading a book on the origins of ebola. Ya'll better get out here and read instead of watching all this manufactured news... hear me now, believe me later on that.

Overall, I am hoping for a quiet weekend. I hope the temperature gets up, though. Aren't you tired of this weather already? It is COLD!

Have a good weekend... On purpose!

Monday, October 20, 2014

Good-Bye Oscar-Tyrone.

I was looking through my cell phone and I saw my last few pictures of Oscar-Tyrone. I picked a couple to post.

I knew he didn't have much longer to go, as he has slowed down so much, so I took him outside to get some fresh air and to let him play around in the grass. He'd been sleeping a lot, so going outside woke him up a bit.

I know that had to shock him. He was an inside cat and had rarely been outside in his 17 years. When I did take him outside, I would have to hold him tight so he wouldn't run away.

But he seemed content with this little bit of time out.

At one time, he stood up and scampered towards something. I ran over to see what it was. It was a wasp. I said "Oh no, dude... you bite a wasp, you get stung. And that'll be a problem for real!"

But he seemed to enjoy his time outside. He wandered behind the bushes and all around. He wore himself out, though.  When he'd climbed the stairs and lay on the porch, I knew he'd had enough and it was time to go back in the house.

And this is my very last picture of him, taken 3 days before he died.

He was laying on the ottoman on his blanket. As usual, he was staring at me hard.  His scowl was especially hard in that pic. Yet, he would just stare at me... then he would jump down from his spot and walk over to where I was lounging on the sofa. After much more staring, he would jump up on my lap.  I rubbed him until he fell asleep. And sometimes we would listen to some Mahalia Jackson.

But he died on Columbus day, some time in the middle of the night. He hadn't come out of the closet at all the Sunday before (he would usually make an appearance to drink water and hit the litter box), so I knew he didn't have much to time to live. I sat his box, some plastic bags and some gloves next to the closet just in case I needed them. I found him and carefully placed him in three bags and placed him in the box which I had lined with one of my winter scarfs. I taped up the box and later wrote his name and a couple of messages on the box. Then I placed his box in the garage until I could dig his grave in the backyard.

Now digging his grave... that was more than a notion. It was going well until I got down to that red georgia clay. It might as well had been concrete. Between that and the mosquitoes biting the stew out of me, I was done.

So I drove around my neighborhood looking for one of the locals who helps me with yard work. He was supposed to stop through that day, but hadn't due to the rain. So I found him after a few minutes...

... and he came over to finish digging the grave under a tree in the backyard.
He needed a pick axe to get through that clay (I knew it wasn't just me. I ain't that weak).

I didn't want to stand there while he dug the grave. I played around with Pam (my mazda), which is parked in the back of the driveway next to the backyard. Cowgirl Cre's father had just replaced the brake switch that had broken, and he told me that I needed a quart and a half of oil. So I checked my oil and added more while Mr. Dwayne finished digging the grave.  He called me over when he finished.

He asked if I had any last words or requests.

I didn't have much to say. I was more concerned with not embarrassing myself by falling out on the ground crying.

I slapped my arm hard. The mosquitoes were at me again.

"He was a good cat," I said. "He had a good 17 years of life. A good cat, he was. Good-bye Oscar-Tyrone."

And with that, Mr. Dwayne placed his box in the ground.
And I watched as he covered him up. I blinked back my tears.

 I held my composure, though. I didn't wail as he packed the dirt down.

I thought I should sing a song... or play some Mahalia or something.  But the mosquitoes... ugh.

"You want me to cut the grass for you?" Mr. Dwayne asked.

"Yes," I said. I had worn myself out from the one hour's worth of digging. I didn't have the energy to mow grass. And I wasn't in the mood.

He went into my garage and got my lawn mower. I stood out there and reminesced for a moment... until I heard the hard whir of the lawn mower. 

And that was that.

I still need to go buy a marker for his grave. A nice brick with his name painted on it will do. 

I have been fine.  There has been a bit of tearing up and sniffling when I am around the house and I am calling Callie Jo "Oscar" by mistake. Or if I see some old pictures of him, I tear up a little.  And I guess that is to be expected.

But 17 years is a long time. If that cat could talk, he could tell some stories about me...

"That LadyLee," he would say. "That Oldgirl has done a bunch of questionable mess."

Yes I have. And "mess" is not the word he'd use... He could tell the whole story. Yes indeed.

He was always a loyal animal, as animals tend to be.

I am not much of a cat or dog person. But one thing about animals: they don't judge like humans do. No they don't. 

This warrants a song of the week... One that sent me a cryin' while standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes yesterday.

My goodness. I must remove that from my oldschool rap playlist.

Or maybe not.

Goodbye Oscar-Tyrone.

I will always remember you, good cat.

Friday, October 17, 2014

HaPPy 50th Birthday to the Uncommon One, Chele

I want to say a extra special Happy Birthday to one of my favorite bloggers CHELE!!!


A Happy 50th Birthday!!!!

And this is what 50 looks like on Chele! 

Ummph, Ummph, Ummph.

That Chele don't look a day over 20.

I wish I could look that way at my age of 44. Might don't make it, ya'll. Nope, might don't make that one.

I look at her and think... "Lawd... I wish I could be uncommon like her."

She is uncommon... meaning unconventional, unusual, atypical, extraordinary.

Don't forget exceptional and noteworthy.

She is uncommon. In other words, Chele is ALL THAT and a bag of chips.

And like the caption reads in the picture above...  

"If you believe in yourself, anything is possible."


Chele has had such a powerful influence over the way I look at things over the years. So many times I've prayed about problems and I turn to one of her posts, and all the answers are laid out right before my very eyes. I have loved her transparency in so many of her posts, and I have learned much from her willingness to self assess and make the necessary changes. And that's saying a lot in this world that has the mentality of "I'm right and everyone else is wrong". With her, it's more of "I see a problem and I want to change to make things better and to make things right within my ownself".

And we know that true change comes from within.

I have never met her. She came to Atlanta one time several years ago, and I had a fleeting thought of asking if I could meet her... if only at a stoplight or in the Wal-mart parking lot.

But I was afraid. It would have been like that scene in The Color Purple, when Shug was leaving, and Celie wanted to say something... But she fainted.

Chele hollers  "Hey LadyLee!" in the Wal-mart parking lot.

I try to speak. But my words are caught in my throat. And I faint. I pass out on the hard concrete.

No way man. I would not embarrass myself like that. Un-unh.  So I just left it alone.

I will be like Celie, and just follow from afar.

She is iconic in my minds eye... so uncommon. Almost to the point of being mythic.

So Chele, I wish you a Happy Friday... and a Happy Birthday.

And I end with one of the quotes I've posted in the past that you seem to like.

"Don't discuss your uncommon dreams and goals with common people".

Dear Chele, the dreams you have had over the years are very uncommon, even recently. I have sat by and read what you've dreamed, and I have whispered a silent prayer of agreement. I have hoped your dreams, these uncommon dreams, will come to pass.

And I see that happening, right before my very eyes.

And what a blessing it is.  No hate from me... just a standing ovation and a mighty hand clap of support.

So here's to 50. 

Your 6th decade of life has begun.

And I am more than sure that you will uncover more layers of yourself, and make even more discoveries of who you are and find out just how far you can go...

I am sure you will reach more of...

The Uncommon.

Much love, Uncommon Original Oldgirl.

Enjoy your day...

From your fellow Original Oldgirl...


Monday, October 13, 2014

RIP Oscar-Tyrone... October 1997- October 13 2014

Oh man.

I tell you it was so hard to go and find Oscar-Tyrone gone this morning.  It was to the point that I didn't want to go check on him. I knew he would be gone. But when Tazzee texted to ask how he was doing I said not too good. I'd just woke up and wasn't looking forward to it. But I opened the hall closet door, and looked in.

And there he was, looking as if he was sleeping peacefully. All day yesterday, he would look up, and he would look up at me with that familiar surley scowl, as if to say "Gal, would you close that door?"

He didn't look up this time. He wasn't asleep. I shook his shoulder.

He was gone.

And I cried.

Poor Callie Jo is all confused, not knowing what's going on. She sat and watched wide-eyed as I put on some latex gloves and grabbed some plastic bags and removed his body. I placed him in a box I had ready for the past few days next to the closet.

That was so hard. But I was ready. But man... my heart wasn't ready.

He lived a good 17 years... He was my ex-husband's cat and he didn't want to break our cats up. So I was a little miffed that I had to take care of him. I guess it was just that he was a constant reminder of love lost.

But the Oldcat grew on me. He became more surley over the past couple of years. I guess a bad liver and gall bladder had him like that.

But 17 years is a long time. He has lived in many places, even in New Orleans.

And ya'll know how he do with his party beads...

Yes. He knew how to keep it gangster.

That's OT for you.

No one mean mugs like him. Human or animal. No one.

And there were many times when I was running around looking for him, only to find him staking me out from the beams above my living room.

He hasn't been well enough to get out on those beams in over a year now. I missed him out there.

And he even tried to get along with the feisty Callie Jo... She spent time grooming him in his last days. I think she knew that it was time to get serious and not give him a hard time.

Dear Original Oldcat...

Thanks for hanging with this Oldgirl for all these years. You were so good. Too good for me.

And now you're gone.

Thanks for always being there with me...

Rest in peace.



Friday, October 10, 2014

Get Yours...

I have three college degrees, and this young lady makes me want to go BACK to school and get some more education.

They tried to shoot and kill her to silence her... but it didn't work out like that. She's more vocal than ever.

And she has just won the Nobel Peace Prize. Take that, haters of women getting an education. 

Good for you, Malala... get yours.

And let us all be sure not to take getting an education for granted.