OK, I know that you read that title and thought to yourself, “Yeah, right, a killer cat.” But I will lay out the facts for you and you can judge for yourself.

It all started two weeks ago when my son brought home a rain-soaked kitten that he’d found under my dad’s porch. As you heard in one of my last blogs, I’m kind of a pushover for strays so I didn’t stand a chance at the sight of this little (about 6-week-old) wet, forlorn looking little kitten. My son named her “Dallas.”

So we take it in and I notice pretty soon that this kitten loves my son but doesn’t necessarily like me. She squirms out of the arms when I pick her up and actually swatted her little paw at me once. It was unusual for an animal not to take to me—I am pretty much the Pet Whisperer. …CONTINUE READING »

When I was growing up, I thought I was pretty cool – my attitude, the way I dressed, and even my hair.

In the mid 1980s, having a modified Mohawk that was dark brown stubble on the sides with a bleached blonde mane – especially in a small, rural community – was shocking and rebellious. And yes, that was the look I was going for.

However, I suffered a common fashion casualty of the early 90s, when I decided to grow my hair out a little (but only in the back), get rid of the blonde, and de-punk a bit overall. In other words, I had a mullet. But it was a cute mullet, and I’d like to think I pulled it off.

Between that time and now – almost 20 years (gulp) – I’ve had quite a few different doos… and even a few don’ts. One thing I’ve discovered over the years is that I prefer shorter hair. Not only is it easier to manage, but I think it also fits the shape of my face better and makes me look younger (the importance of those things is not necessarily in that order).

I’ve also resorted to treating my hair regularly with a semi-permanent dye that’s very similar to my natural color, which is dark brown. Thanks to genetics, without the dye, my hair would be almost completely gray. And again, while gray can be sexy and distinguished, at this point in my life, I’d rather look 10 years younger. …CONTINUE READING »

We’ve had yet another rough week. Last Sunday, my daughter succumbed to the H1N1 virus, and by Tuesday had developed a minor case of pneumonia. Meanwhile, I ended up with bronchitis, a sinus infection and an ear infection. By Wednesday, we were sick, sick of each other and sick of this house. I don’t know which is worse — the illnesses or cabin fever.

Kids amaze me. They’re able to watch a movie or a show repeatedly; not just once or twice, but dozens of times in a row. We’ve been through all the stages, from The Wiggles to Disney movies and iCarly. Now, we’re on to Harry Potter and Pirates of the Caribbean. This week alone we’ve watched “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” at least five times and “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” at least six. I shouldn’t complain — at least it’s not The Wiggles. That darn “Fruit Salad” song still gets stuck in my head. I’ll take Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom over four middle-aged Aussies any day!

It’s hard taking care of a six kiddo when you’re sick, too. We’ve played Webkinz online together, napped, eaten ice cream, coughed and sneezed for hours.  (For the record, Puffs Plus with the Scent of Vicks? You rock.) Unfortuntely, it’s been gorgeous outside, and we’ve all looked out the window longingly as our neighbors played ball, took walks and hung out in the cul-de-sac.

I think we’re on the mend, but we’re definitely sick of being indoors. Anyone got any tips on what to do this weekend? As long as it doesn’t involve the television, I’m game!

I need to color my hair in a bad way. I just didn’t time my visits to the salon right, and now I’ve got roots and grays. My appointment this Saturday cannot come fast enough. I can’t wait to get pampered because my stylist, Matt, gives me the royal treatment.  I am eagerly anticipating the peaceful little break from my hectic life in his salon when I can just sit quietly, read trashy magazines and drink wine. Champagne, actually. Nowhere to rush to, no kids, no husband for one blissful hour. I can’t wait!

Why the emergency? My appointment was rescheduled twice already. The first time was my fault, I had a conflict. The second time was because he was sick, so I can’t blame him. But, it just totally threw me. I will eventually spiral into, “Just cut it all off!” thoughts if I don’t hit the sweet spot and get a cut and color just in time. I sound a little neurotic and flaky. But, I am. Matt knows. He has graciously ushered me through compulsive, sanity-challenging phases. …CONTINUE READING »

I know absolutely nothing about retail practices, so when I see that some item I really like is being discontinued, I take it personally. It never occurs to me that there may be more complicated issues at hand. “Supply and demand” to me means basically that I like something that virtually no one else does.

It all started with my favorite brand and make of jeans. I had finally gotten to that glorious Shangri-la that men reside in where I could just go into a store, pick up my side from the racks and check out without having to try them on.  These jeans were classic Levi’s that hit just below the belly button and had a straight leg.

But then came the explosion of the low-rise elephant bell jeans and my jeans were fazed out. You couldn’t find them anywhere and if you asked a salesperson he or she would look at you like you just asked where they’re corsets were located.  …CONTINUE READING »

I’ve had one of those weeks. My daughter had two meetings, I had a business trip to Tulsa, we had a fashion show and a wedding to attend yesterday … well, I’m pretty pooped. I certainly didn’t want to find the time to go select our granite slab for the basement wet bar. After all, it’s just a big ol’ rock, right? Cut it and slap it on there. I don’t have time to deal with it this week.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. (Shhh… don’t tell my husband.)

We arrived at the granite distributor and trudged our way through the showroom to wait for the salesperson to walk us to inspect our exact slab.

“Hey, look, hon!” I said. “Here’s our color. Mojave cream.” I pointed to a small slab. Uh oh. Beneath it was a sample Home Depot didn’t offer. Blanc Noir. It was EXACTLY what I wanted. My head started to pound in panic. Mojave cream wasn’t working for me anymore — as the name suggested, it was more cream where we wanted white.  But maybe our slab would be more along the lines of what I had in mind, right? …CONTINUE READING »

I’m sure that almost everyone in today’s modern world, where the cell phone is a primary vehicle of communication, has either dialed incorrectly or received a call from a wrong number. It happens, right?

And sometimes people are unfortunate enough to have a phone number that closely resembles a popular business, such as a pizza place. However, an experience by Sarah, a close friend of mine, tops all of the wrong number horror stories that I’ve ever heard before.

Let me start by saying that Sarah has had her phone number for almost three years now. People usually begin receiving wrong numbers when a line is first acquired – because it’s either very similar to the other number (like a pizza place) or the individual the caller is seeking actually had that exact number in the past. …CONTINUE READING »

Those of you in relationships know how interesting it is when you first visit the home of your romantic interest. You get a real insight into the person when you see the surrounding in which he or she lives.

When my husband Steve and I first started dating years ago, and I walked into his house for the first time it was like touching down on some alien planet. I’m not a snob but I’m one of those people who cares pretty deeply what my living environment looks like and a ceramic Uncle Sam head (yes, he had one) is not entirely my idea of a tasteful home interior.

Steve is not a patriotic zealot. Sadly, he just liked the way the Uncle Sam head looked.

And then there was the black velvet painting. I tried to bargain with myself by telling myself that at least it wasn’t a black velvet painting of Elvis, but really, is that even a relevant argument? I’d like to say the painting was some kind of kitschy so-uncool-it’s-cool attempt at decorating, but I would be lying.

One room was painted gray except for a 3-foot by 3-foot area on one wall where he’d run out of paint. Apparently he wasn’t bothered by seeing that blank space day after day. I, on the other hand, a woman with obsessive/compulsive tendencies that would alarm Monk, took two trips through that room and was ready to confess to the Lindbergh kidnapping. I repainted the whole room. …CONTINUE READING »