Random cat nonsense.

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I posted a picture of Lord Dudley Mountcatten sprawled on my husband’s laptop to Facebook a while back and a girlfriend sent me this.

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I think that could work quite well.

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Required picture of his Lordship.

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Hard no.

If there is ever a club that declines to offer me membership? Please let it be this one.

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Required photo number two.

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And look how happy kitty is with his gift! I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a strategically placed pile of poo in that owner’s future.

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Required photo number three. Dudley is not impressed.

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I love my town.

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I live in the country, in a small Maine town. This is never more apparent than when you read their local Facebook page.

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I don’t golf, never have. But if I could hire a personal goat caddy? I might have to start.

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And speaking of goats….

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Rent a goat. Now there’s a small business worth supporting.

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And if you think we’re all about goats, never fear.

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We have worms right next to the milk and butter in our grocery store’s dairy case.

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And finally… are we really doing this now?

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Puppy play dates. What happened to the good old days when neighborhood dogs just met on the corner and sniffed each other butts?

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Cats rule… part 2.

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Sorry, not sorry. These tickle my funny bone.

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Cats are a huge presence in their owner’s (read slaves) lives, so these pictures aren’t far off the mark.

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If you’ve ever been in a hurry to get out of the house and have to dodge a suddenly snake like creature winding madly around your legs, you know what I mean.

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Blocking traffic in mid town? I can see that.

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The leaf on this cat’s head kills me!

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“Of all God’s creatures, there is only one that cannot be made slave of the leash. That one is the cat. If man could be crossed with the cat it would improve the man, but it would deteriorate the cat.”

Mark Twain

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Going out on that limb again.

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Okay, I know I said my last weird experience post was the finale but after I blogged them all… I realized it actually wasn’t. The following is what I wrote three months after my mother passed. Her wish was to be cremated but she never told me what to do with her ashes. Being an only child I agonized over the decision, but knew that part of her should rest somewhere in New Jersey where she spent some of the happiest years of her life. It was an emotional trip for many reasons, but what happened on this particular day really hit home.

Rivergirl

October 20, 2014

I knew….

The third day of our trip started much like the first. My husband was up before dawn and went downstairs for the free…. but barely edible… hotel breakfast. Think watery eggs and rubber sausage.

I took a shower and as I was getting dressed, realized I should do what I had been putting off.

The purpose of our trip was to bring my mother home and I’d been stalling with walks down memory lane. I knew I wanted to spread half of her ashes at the Jersey shore where we’d spent many happy summers. She always loved the sea.

I stood there in the hotel room, feeling sad… missing my mom…. and set about the gruesome physical task. There’s something surreal about holding the remains of your loved one in your hands. The weight of a lifetime.

Of course I started crying. Wondering if I was doing the right thing, doing what she would have wanted. The grief flooded over me like a wave…

And then, when the task was done and she was evenly divided, I smiled…. because I realized I had double baggied her and she would have loved that.

Remember her fondness for baggies?

After I wiped my tears, I reached for my purse which held my much needed makeup… and saw something on the table. The table that had been perfectly empty a half hour before when I stepped in the shower.

I gasped. And started crying again….

It was my mother’s white bobby pin.

She was such a pill about them. Would never use any other color and they’re harder to find than you might think. She hoarded them… and started fretting when she was running low. They were in every room of her apartment, in every pocket of every coat and every sweater she owned. She was never without them…

But I didn’t carry them. Ever. And I certainly didn’t pack one to take on the trip with us. Why would I? My husband didn’t put it there, he was downstairs eating breakfast. I suppose a random white haired maid could have snuck in and dropped it while touching up her ‘do when I was in the shower…. but I’m guessing the odds of that are pretty high.

There’s no reason on earth why a white Bobby pin should have been on that table… except one.

My husband walked in the room a few minutes later, saw me crying and looked lost.

He didn’t believe me when I told him…

But I knew.

I knew she was there with me.

I knew.

To this day I still can’t wrap my mind around what happened. A physical embodiment of spirit? Get the straight jacket ready and tidy up the rubber room, River is on her way.

It’s been 7 years since that crazy bobby pin appeared out of nowhere, and if I think about it too long I begin to doubt it happened at all. But then I walk into our bedroom and look on my bureau under my passel of Alex and Ani bracelets…

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Hello momma

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And I know.

I know it did…..

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He’s such a slacker.

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Today is Mother’s Day and Lord Dudley Mountcatten marked the occasion by doing absolutely nothing. He didn’t hack me up a hairball, he didn’t push his food bowl my way… he didn’t even drop a dead mouse at my feet. What a slacker!

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I mean really, would it have killed him to order me a box of cocktail chocolates?

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No, it would not. The lazy sod sleeps on the keyboard for heaven’s sake… and don’t tell me he doesn’t have thumbs. Those paws are more dexterous than you think.

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(Don’t laugh, kitty mothers count.) Come on Dudley… River needs a chocolate covered margarita.

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See? This cat made breakfast…. I don’t think I’m being at all unreasonable.

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Spamalot

It’s been a while since I opened my can of WordPress Spam, so let’s take a look and have a laugh.

Treme eka

19 hours ago

You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.

Robinson buckler cured me from herpes and he used his love spell to get my ex back, email him at robinsonbuckler@yahoo.com, whatsapp +1 (253) 336 1753

I suppose with a blog title like You show me yours, I’ll show you mine this comment shouldn’t be surprising. And if the witch doctor is reuniting happy herpes free couples? Who am I to judge.

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Nicolette Moster

Spam

Day 15… Small bathrooms and antique store Hell, where River reexamines how much she really loves her husband.

Hi, the https://riversworld.live site has helped me a lot to grow my
cat, which I love very much.

I’m not sure how a post about antique shopping aids in feline growth, but it’s nice to see spammers love their pets.

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Sol Strohl

2 days ago·

Spam

Cape Cod Day 2, a feel for the Cape…. and food.

Help me out here…who is the white kevin hart?

I certainly don’t know the answer to that. And to be honest, I seriously doubt we even need one.

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Sorry Kevin, but I am.

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Solgovic

6 hours ago·

Right away I am going to do my breakfast, once having my breakfast coming yet again to read other news.

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And clearly, this person prefers my blog to the morning newspaper. Makes me wonder if my posts have the same physiological effects as oatmeal.

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Say what?

Have you ever wondered about the origin of certain phrases ? I do, and tend to go off on meandering paths of research that waste an inordinate amount of time. So allow me to share a few explanations in the hopes that this will be quick and painless… for you anyway.

#1. Basket Case

While it tends to be used in a fairly lighthearted way today (usually describing someone who makes stupid mistakes, or crumbles under pressure), the original basket case is a gruesome reminder of how bloody war can be. In its original context, a basket case was a soldier who had been so badly injured that he had to be carried from the battlefield in a barrow or basket, usually with the implication that he had lost all four of his limbs.

Yes, that phrase was considerably darker upon inception.

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#2. Cooties

As a nickname for body or head lice, cooties first appeared as slang in 1915. It’s apparently derived from the coot, a species of waterfowl supposedly known for being infested with lice and other parasites.

Hmm. And I always thought I made it up in the second grade to describe that weird little girl with the greasy hair who lived down the street. Disappointing, that.

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#3. Pogey Bait

Pogey-bait was candy, or a sweet snack of any kind, among American and Canadians. No one is quite sure where the term comes from, but the first part could be pogy, a nickname for the menhaden fish, literally “fish-bate”.

I realize this phrase may be slightly regional to my area, but the fact that “fish bate” was turned into a term for candy really does boggle the mind. A lump of dead fish…. or a chocolate bar? Not really a hard choice there.

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Cats rule.

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I think we can all agree if you invite a cat into your home and heart, they quickly turn your house into their kingdom and rule with an iron fist. While all cat owners know this, there’s now an artist who’s showing us world domination isn’t far behind.

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*Gulp*

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Catzilla?

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He’ll make mincemeat out of those puny Power Rangers! And then perhaps, a pie.

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To be viewed while humming the old Vanity Fare song ‘Hitchin’ A Ride’.

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This next photo explains a lot.

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Part 2 to follow..

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How odd.

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We had an odd sun reflection in our living room last week.

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Strange coincidence … or alien targeting technology?

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Time will tell.

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Martin, I immediately thought of you. But, blech! It’s still a giant no from where I’m sitting.

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A few of my friends might get this for Christmas. You know who you are… but what makes it odd is the label. ‘Nice Stuff For Mom’. I don’t know about you, but I never tipped back half a dozen martinis with my mother.

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And finally, anatomically correct beer glasses. While I can almost see the appeal of the female version…. the hourglass figure makes for a good grip… the male glass is more than a trifle disturbing.

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