I've had cats who liked some strange food. Smokey loved cantaloupe. She'd climb your leg if there was one in the grocery bag. My father used to tease her by putting a whole cantaloupe on the floor. She'd wrap herself around it and roll it all over the place, trying to get her teeth into it. She also loved spaghetti sauce.
Siddy Kitty loved cheese, ice cream (a lot of cats don't like the cold), and PEAS!
Thunder seems a lot more particular. I even have to coax her to taste cooked chicken. So I was very surprised to discover that she likes sour-cream-and-onion-flavored Pringles potato chips! I was eating some in bed the other night, and she came up and asked "What's that?" If you break pieces off and hold them out for her, she'll chomp them right down and ask for more. Very neatly, too - no crumbs.
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It is now 12 days since I got the henna hand, and it's faint but still there (except for the heel of my hand, where it remains pretty impressive). But because of my back I haven't washed dishes or soaked in a bubblebath since last Friday (6 days), so this wasn't a very good test.
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It seems that we now have to keep our houses germ-free. You are a bad housekeeper and a bad mother if there are any germs lurking anywhere in your house. It's just an advertising campaign to sell us more stuff, but I'm afraid people are actually buying into it (like having to wash your hair every day! - what a major triumph of advertising that was!) Companies that market stuff are not required to be socially responsible. I'm afraid "Eeek-a-germ" will spread, and we'll raise a whole generation of kids with no immunity to anything. Promise me, Daughter, that when you are raising my grandchildren you will allow them to eat dirt, wade in the ditch after a storm, catch frogs, kiss strange dogs, and play in the cat's litter box.
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When I did that "things I like about us" bit, I left out a few good things:
We are honest. When given too much change, we give the excess back.
We respect other people's property and feelings, even that of strangers. Graffiti artists get no praise from us.
We do random actsof kindness as a matter of course. We automatically assist a struggling stranger.
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I almost got into trouble last week with that "random acts of kindness" bit. There was a young Jamaican male in the grocery store obviously overwhelmed by the myriad choices of skin creams and balms. His English wasn't very clear, and what was on the shelves apparently didn't look at all familiar to him. I asked if I could help, and at first he said he was looking for something for a rash (Calamine lotion? Antiseptic?) but then after some trial and error, I figured out that his problem was razor burn.
So once I got him fixed up with the right stuff, ........... I couldn't get rid of him! I think he either fell instantly in love with me, or figured it was worth a try, anyway. Maybe I could be nice in other ways, too. I was really getting schmoozed. Major pressure. I took off and zoomed up and down the aisles, taking corners on two wheels of the cart. He'd have had to run to keep up with me. I hid out in frozen foods until I saw him leave.
Sigh. Random acts are so much easier with a husband at your elbow.
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I have never understood the phrase "the exception that proves the rule". How does an exception prove a rule? Doesn't an exception DISprove a rule? ????? More stuff I don't understand. Maybe the name of this journal should be "I Don't Understand".
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