Yes, I’m THAT Person

Toby, my low-life cheatin’ kittie

Someone in a discussion with my sister, wondered who those people were that were upset when their pets ran away from home, because if they had run away it must’ve been because they were bad owners. . . . she thought for a moment, and then answered, “my sister.”

It’s true. I’m THAT person. Here’s the story. I had my cat for over 12 years. She was the first cat we had while here in Tennessee–the alpha and omega of kitties. We found her in the woods and raised her from a kitten. The thing about Toby is she is the ultimate loner and admirably ferocious. I once saw her bring a rabbit out of the woods that was as big as she was, which was quite extraordinary. I, as a cat owner, am very “needy.” I need lots of attention from my animals. So when my cat disappears for months at a time, I assume she just wants her space, and I’m okay with that, as long as she shows up and lets me know she’s okay and happy. But when she moves in with my neighbor, (let’s call him Jeff), that’s when I get upset. What does he have that I don’t???? Better food? I give out kitty treats several times a day and sometimes even break out the canned salmon. Better home? I have a courtyard dedicated to kitties only. Love? Come on, do I really need to go on about my attributes here????

With this loss, I found myself going through the seven stages of grief. First Shock and Denial–how could Toby move in with Jeff? Then Pain and Guilt–did I do something wrong? Does Toby hate me now? Then Anger and Bargaining–I find myself driving by Jeff’s house thinking, “what a @@@itch, when I see Toby lazing in his yard and then quickly finding myself wanting to stop to say hello.” Next, I experienced depression–weeks of just trying to get on with my life, perking up at any stray meow I heard. Followed by some normalcy returning to my life–my other dogs and cats still need attention, walks, hugs, treats as I’m working through my loss. Then finally acceptance–“Okay, so Toby isn’t coming back. I still have two other cats that love my attention and two dogs that watch my every movement, basking in each dog biscuit…..

I guess I’m writing this post to admit that when it comes to my pets, I “MIGHT” be needier than the most obnoxious dog. I have high expectations–as long as they stick around they pretty much own me. I wonder if there’s a 12-step program for pet owners to work through the co-dependency issues.

Take care, All

I finally have Unplugged up on Barnes and Noble for Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unplugged-hillary-bergeron/1112136489?ean=2940014942355

When someone says, “Oh, she’s so hot,” it’s not because I’m really really good lookin’.

Is it my imagination, or have the summers been hotter than they’ve been in the past few years? We’re in the midst of another heat wave across the east and this time I’m almost prepared–mentally. I knew it was coming and I’d devised a personal SOP (Army’s Standard Operational Plan) on how I was going to handle it. First, I’d have 360 fan coverage, if that wasn’t enough, I would shed clothes until I reached optimal comfort. If that didn’t work, then the unheated hot tub. When I was too shriveled to sit any longer, then I’d have to spend the day at the library or go window shopping until the stores kicked me out.
A few days ago, news stations blasted that we’re going to be hit by record high temperatures. My anxiety rose much like a thermometer in a sauna. For the last few years, it’s been so hot in the summer I’ve about cooked from the inside out making me feel as though I’m in a state of constant, never-ending menopausal hot flashes. Right now, it’s night and I’m sitting in a room with a fan blowing on me from a few feet away and it isn’t enough.
All last winter, Mt. Bob and I have been scheming on ways to keep the house cool for the following summer. More fans–ice blocks in front of fans (not practical since we’d have to first freeze huge blocks of ice), spending most of the day in an unheated hot tube and window air-conditioner units. We thought we were onto something with getting a small window unit and running it for a few hours a day.
Mt. Bob set to work investigating this brilliant plan. How much power does it use? Can we run it off the inverter? If we ran it off the generator, how much would it cost per hour for that small measure of comfort? We even called a solar company and asked their opinion. Our hopes dashed as the man laughed at us, then he said that maybe we should just open a window. When we mentioned our windows were all open and that we lived in the deep south, he callously said “that’s your first mistake, I’d never live in the south.” So disheartened and slightly annoyed at his rudeness, we gave up the idea of a window unit. I’m sad to say another summer will go by without finding a way to cool the house from the incessant heat.
My friend’s house, which is located in a holler and is surrounded by huge trees, is comfortable, while mine feels like the inside of a pizza oven in the middle of the night. To escape, we used to be able to jump in the car and go somewhere. It didn’t matter where, just as long as the air-conditioning was blowing in our faces. But for the past few years, the air-conditioning broke in not one, but our second car as well. Talk about bad luck. We’d kicked around the idea of getting it fixed, but decided that eating and paying our bill was probably a better plan, although there were times I seriously doubted our judgment–usually when beads of sweat were rolling down my back.
This year, I’d decided I’d had enough. I pulled up to one of those mom and pop service shops and asked to have it looked at. An hour later, it was fixed and I only had to shell out fifty dollars for this priceless gift. Now I’m irritated that I’d spent the previous two summers arriving at church with my hair wind-blown–and not in a nice carefree way, and it would’ve taken only fifty bucks to save myself the personal harassment of nature’s beast (heat).
Feeling emboldened, I brought in the second car and it was fixed too, but this time for quite a lot more–I don’t want to go into details, it’s still too painful to talk about. Now I have two cars, both with air-conditioning. Now if there’s only something I can do about my house everything would be perfect…or at least I wouldn’t completely melt.

Take Care, All

Here’s the trailer for my new mystery novel:

Exercise equipment and good clothes hangers.

I admit that I occasionally use my treadmill for a clothes dryer. Why waste the space when you need it? But since the treadmill purchase, I’ve used it quite a bit. Yes, there were long stretches of laziness, but then I get back into a routine when I’m not in the midst of some cold, flu or injury. But since good health is a life-long endeavor, I’ve decided to try harder to be good to my body. This is the only one I’m going to get and I can’t run down to Wal-Mart and pick up a new trim model, although that would make a great science fiction novel–so I’ve got to take care of the one I’ve got. Come to think of it, the only model I could afford was the lumpy cellulite-infested model anyway–sexy body 10.1 for $29.99.

So since I can’t purchase my healthy body, I realized I was going to have to work for it. I’ve discovered exercise equipment is something I never have to purchase brand new. All I have to do is wait until about April or May and there’s an abundance for sale on the secondary markets. I’ve been working out with hand weights for quite some time and we decided it was time to upgrade to better equipment. So the hunt was on for a good home gym. Yesterday we found one. Since my husband was singing the praises of an AB lounge, I decided to pick one of those up too. As we trekked across Tennessee yesterday, we came across people selling their equipment. They all had something in common–they both gave excuses why the equipment didn’t work for them–too busy, too much space . . . lost interest after buying it on a late night shopping network (at least she was honest about it). I decided I didn’t want to be that person. I didn’t want to sell my home gym for a fraction of the price with a guilty expression, making noises about why I couldn’t exercise. It’s just way too embarrassing. Oh, something else, these people are so embarrassed, they just want to get what they can for it, so offer a lower price and they’ll usually take it. They just want the equipment out of their house so they don’t have to be reminded that they need to use it–I know, I’ve been there.

While putting it together and cleaning up the weights, I came across a very pregnant black widow spider–another drawback of buying something that’s been in the guy’s garage for any length of time. Also there are some pieces missing, but we’ve been able to find alternative pieces to replace them. I’m looking forward to doing this. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be that old woman in the body building competition the media writes about. I’ll be the one with all the stretch marks and the obnoxious amount of scars and that layer of fat I just couldn’t get rid of no matter what I do.

Take care, ALL.

If you haven’t had the chance to see my book trailer, feel free to take a look.