Hello there.

A cat's tongue can cover some ground. 3 feet in one second.

Also, your blood travels 4 million miles a day.

The first fact is factual. I read in the newspaper today how a cat drinks, which is very elegantly.

And the second one, I believe that is what my exercise lady from church read from a book while we were resting on the floor after strenuous exercise. It sounds a little far fetched, doesn't it? 4 million miles? But with God in charge, that would be nothing to Him. Still, don't quote me because my brain may have been strained after exercising. But that's what she said, I know it.

Robby does not like to play with his muskrat on the fishing pole much these days. He had the new muskrat and ate the long tale off in short order. I wasn't too happy. He also plucked the dragonfly off the carpet scratcher in no time flat. And I can't find either one of these severed items. Robby has a new game. He sits on the bed and I toss the sheet over him and it billows down slowly all around him. He loves that.

Animals sure have a lot of down time, don't they?

This is short tonight because I had stomach problems today, which started yesterday. You can see how stomach problems and a short blog would go hand in hand, can't you?

Is everyone ready for the holiday season to begin? I'm not especially doing the holidays this year. It's such a relief to know I have no expectations this year. Then, anything I do accomplish will be pure bonus :)

I have some friends saying they left a comment, but the comments didn't show up. And another friend doesn't know how to leave a comment, apparently it isn't obvious how to do it, or she would be doing it. She said I would be able to tell her how, but that is essentially untrue. It's a good thing I don't blog for a living.

KEM, the blogging flake

Hi.

Old age is ruining me.

The lovely German girl who is coming to watch our pets, she is one of those who finds organizing to be therapeutic. She is OCD, did I say that right? Today I emailed her and said I hoped she didn't mind a little clutter and dust. She wrote back that she didn't mind at all and that I should leave her an organizing project to do, because that would be therapy for her, not work. This wonderful person needs to move in next door. I really need someone like her in my life.

She also promised I didn't need to worry about my frying pan walking off. She would guard the gates and supervise any coming and going activity and be sure my possessions did not escape under the radar. I'm not worried in the least, with her in charge. She's under 30 years of age and 1,000% capable and nice. And all she wants for all this is some German cheese and sausage.

Anyway, I feel better that maybe my house doesn't have to be perfect for her. I don't know, I'm so sick and tired of my slovenly little self. And I'll bet you are, too. Maybe I won't talk about it anymore. It's a disease.

Yesterday when I got my hair colored, I asked Celia if my hair was long enough for an updo. She busted up laughing. In short, my hair is not long enough for a do of any kind. But we might try a faux do. The owner of the salon (she used to do my hair, kind of embarrassing!) said I needed to come in and let them do my make up and hair (fake French twist or something) and then go get a picture taken. Well, she is right, and I hope they do the do.

I forgot what I was going to blog on tonight. So this is why you are getting mishmash. I did read about living in itty bitty houses and decluttering today. Oh, and what else is new?

Why can't I write about Quik Chik and 8 Layer Cake? 'Cause I'm too tired, that's why. Women over 50, PLEASE tell me there is HOPE!!!

KEM of the Konsumption P.S. My avocado was perfect tonight. Remember my blog on how I can't spell avacodo? That must have been a year ago, at least!

S & S blog tonight (Short and Sweet).

If you haven't seen the Youtube of the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus in Macy's, this is what you might like to do. Go to Youtube.com and where it says SEARCH, type in Hallelujah Chorus at Macy's. What it is, is a 650 voice choir (composed of many choirs in Philadelphia). But it just looks like Macy's is having a good turn out of shoppers that day. The organ (the largest in the world, 28,000 pipes, for Corn's sake) is playing a nice piece and then, without warning, you hear the familiar strains of the Hallelujah Chorus introduction. I immediately got the chills when the voices came in. Really and truly, to me the Hallelujah Chorus is THE most magnificent song on the planet. How can all souls not help but rise up and worship the living Christ when this music sounds forth?

This "performance" was part of a program called Random Acts of Culture. Isn't that super cool? And good for Macy's for participating. I'm all for innovative ways of stirring some passion for classical music. But this was so special because it exalted the Lord. I was thinking, Wonder how long before the ACLU sues Macy's. Then I read a bunch of the comments on Youtube and someone else expressed the same sentiment. Well, praise God, I felt this idea was very hopeful and inspiring.

And, when the music started, guess who came trotting up, meowing, and jumped on the computer desk? Not only that, I played the video a second time and guess who came trotting up, meowing, a second time? I should figure out which instrument to start Robby on.

Then DTD appeared. Then she disappeared into the downstairs hallway and then into the laundry room. She reappeared with her hands full of rolls of paper towels and TP. Glad to oblige.

DTD is insulted that we fly to Germany on her birthday. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking having a baby in mid-December. December 13th. It's hard to pull off Thanksgiving, DTD'S birthday and Christmas, all in your basic one fell swoop. Last year for her birthday I got her an ornament tree called The 12 Days of Christmas. My sister said she and DTD had seen it in a Crate and Barrel catalog and DTD seemed smitten with it. I thought, Perfect! Because there are exactly 12 days from her birthday to Christmas.

She took it back.

I'm supposed to get my 15 minutes of sun between noon and 3 PM. Mike's nutritionist said so. Rats. At least there is sun on the back deck at that time. You are supposed to expose as much skin as you can, too. Just sayin'.

Worried about cleaning the house because our German friend is going to stay with the pets while we are in Germany, and Germans are famous for being CLEAN FREAKS!!! I am in deep trouble.

In DEEP,
KEM

Now. You know I am trying to get my 15 minutes of Florida sunshine these days, to boost my Vitamin D absorption. This is easier said than done...as is everything with KEM. Back in the pleasant days, before I knew of the D Deficiency, my sister said, Anyone living in Florida cannot help but get enough sun. Meet KEM. I live in my house, which happens to be in Florida. I am a hermit. When my sister said that, I assumed the amount of sun filtering into the house or car was going to do it for me. But of course it did not. Here I am, a resident of a state and city that are peninsulas, sunshine galore for the taking, and I never even get to the beach except the week after Christmas when my sister visits. And I get there once, just to be sociable. Let's face it, I do not DESERVE to live in Florida.

Now. Today I read that 8 out of 10 Americans have low Vitamin D levels. This means, dear blogee, you very well may be one of them. Then I read on Debra Lynn Dadd's site (she is the green lady, expert in all things chemical-free) an interesting discussion on...our favorite buddy Vitamin D. The best kinds of Vit D, the best tests to see where you're at (throwing in some good English here) and what to tell your doctor. HA! I don't have the nerve to tell my doctor anything, unless he asks. Oh, Doctor, did you know I need this other blood test for my levels and not the standard one? Fortunately, I have a wonderful doctor who is a gentleman and might just tolerate such insubordination. But I guess docs don't know everything. My grandfather held the opinion that if a doctor told me my head was on backwards and needed to be chopped off and turned around, I'd say, Why, sure, go right ahead.

Which is to say, I guess if your intuition is telling you to challenge, or at least suggest, to your doctor that you are worried about overdosing the dear good vitamins, then go ahead and spit it out (throwing in a little elegance here).

So, all that to get to the punch line. As many of you know, I am nocturnal. Which means by the time I roll out of bed and do my little afternoon routine and it's finally time to bask in the sun for 15 minutes, the sun is about to go sleepy-bye, especially since the time change, the time change doesn't suit me AT ALL. In the late afternoon I have found a 2 x 2 square of sunshine right by my front door, but today I was so late, even that speck had been swallowed up in shadows.

So, being resourceful (and desperate), I dragged my moldy white plastic chair (which I'm leaving by the curb in hopes someone will swipe it), Jazzi on a leash, Robby dangling from my arm and my cell phone in my hand (so I can register the 15 minutes and call my sister) to the neighbor's driveway, which had that elusive patch of sunshine. After getting situated, which took some doing -- getting the best angle for the sun, getting Jazzi's leash pinned under the chair leg, squeezing a squirming cat and concentrating on not dropping the cell phone (my specialty), I finally plopped down in the Moldy White Plastic Chair (not as appealing sounding as the great children's book, Lily's Purple Plastic Purse).

And what to my wondering eyes should appear, when I glanced down at the grass at my feet?

Either a VERY LARGE mouse or a rather smallish rat. A mouse/rat that had seen better days. A non-living mouse/rat. A mouse/rat that has become a feast for flies. A mouse/rat basking in the waning sun, but hardly able to enjoy it. I wonder if he was short of Vitamin D and had the same idea I did, but was too late and merely collapsed in valiant effort, too exhausted from the sunshine search, his last drop of vitamin D used up, forevermore (getting a little absurd here).

Now. It took a while but Robby finally looked down and spotted it (I think Robby is too intrigued by the outdoors in general to be rat-specific at this time). He did a little start. I have to say, that Robby is a doll. You know he wants to jump down and run in the worst way; he sits and stares out the French windows ev-e-ry day (I should fashion that into a poem). And even with a smokin' hot stinkin' dead rat, he was obedient and stayed put in mommy's arms. Mostly.

I'm just saying. This was a KEM ONLY. ONLY KEM could pick the last spot of sunshine in the sunshine city (St. Petersburg's official nickname) and about sit on top of a dead rat, all the while juggling the aforementioned items and people. Getting my Vitamin D is a dangerous risky enterprise. Who would have thunk?

On to lighter fare. Tonight I was practicing, and Robby just loves to stare behind the music rack and watch the hammers move, I've told you this. I wish my former piano pupils had been so rapt. Well, he was curled up in the corner, on the treble keys, and had his little face peering through the music rack. It was way too adorable, and I was forced to pull a "miracle." I grabbed my cell phone and SOMEHOW took a picture. I've never taken a cell phone picture before. Only by accident.

But desperation is truly the mother of resourcefulness (see above), because I quickly started pressing buttons, any old buttons, until I was told I could take and save a picture. Robby, hang on, don't move! I took two, because, I'm telling you, I'm sending it into the newspaper where every Wednesday they print these adorable pet pictures, with captions. The newspaper asks for submissions, If your pet is being cute... Oh boy, Robby Cute Mader is going to have his 15 minutes of fame if his mommy has anything to say about it. What could my caption be? Robby...an American Rachmaninoff. Cat bears resemblance to Chopin...check out the profile.

Umm...maybe you all should help me out here. Clever captions, anyone?

Sharing the last slice of sunshine with a smouldering ratty mouse,
KEM P.S. Mike and I don't agree on the use of cloth placemats. He says they are for spilling on. I say they are for trying NOT to spill on.

Mike was going to comment that we didn't see the bomb coming because our eyes were locked over dinner. Well nice try, Mike. Robby landed practically in the middle of the table, and I'm glad he narrowly avoided landing on the dinner plate. He landed in a full sitting position. Very strange and shocking, I'm telling you.

Robby's new favorite place is our walk-in closet, on the ladder we leave set up in there. He climbs to the fifth step and then steps up to the paint can shelf, which extends out beyond the steps. This shelf has a circle area where you set your can of paint. He sets the main part of his body in this round area. Pants are draped over the top of the ladder and hang down by this paint shelf, making it all too cozy to resist. It just slays me. Robby takes naps up there all the time, it's always twilightish in that closet, just-right darkness. I think he likes the feeling of superiority that comes with height. And control. He is King of the Land up there. Plus, we leave the closet door open and this gives him the perfect view to see anyone entering the bedroom. The cats have it.

I'm still reeling from Zenyatta's near miss. Like I said, I have no business watching sports.

In the interest of going to bed early tonight, this is all she wrote, folks!

KEM

Tonight while we were scarfing down our hamburgers (why go gourmet when you can be just as happy eating real food?) a big black bomb landed on our dining room table. It came out of absolutely nowhere, I'm telling you, and landed with an earth shattering THUD. Scared us to pieces and we about gagged on our burgers. This bomb had the superlatives of Superman.

So, I guess the moral of this story is Mike and I are losing our peripheral vision. Make that, lost. As you figured, Robby was the big black bomb. Now, I've seen him do this once before, but it's an entirely different matter when it happens when you're not prepared for it. Maybe I told you how Robby can get on the room divider between the kitchen and dining room. The top of it is like a shelf, it's about 3.5 feet from the floor. From this perch, Robby takes his time studying the rather wide distance to the dining room table. It's one giant leap and he puts a lot into it, rocketing through the air and landing with a splash. Let's put it this way, if you want to enter a room discreetly and unnoticed, this would not be the way to do it.

So, not I, and not Mike, saw this coming. We only saw the splash. It was quite incredible. Out of thin air, as they say. Robby is big enough, at 6 months, to make a statement, and, boy, did he. Now you don't see me, NOW you do. I truly wish all of you were eating hamburgers with us tonight, so you could understand how startling it was. I mean, wow, if we had at least seen the last few inches of his flight, but no, just the package dropped out of the blue, only we witnessed none of the drop. This is getting repetitive, in my effort to translate. Moving on...

I'm really craving a big bowl of lumpy Cream of Wheat. But I want to make the most of this extra hour of sleep, too. The theory is, you can have lumpy Cream of Wheat any time. But you only get the extra hour of sleep once a year.

Since I said I am low in Vitamin D, others have said the same. In fact, someone said that a huge number of women are deficient in Vitamin D. Anybody have an explanation for this epidemic?

Oh dear, that marvelous lady horse lost today by a nose. The Breeder's Cup. She had won all 19 of her previous races and was going to break the record today. It would be something because she was racing against the boys today and normally she sticks to her gender. Also, she doesn't race on real dirt, just fake surface, but this was where the Kentucky Derby is held, what's the name of that track? It was so exciting, she was dead last for 4/5ths of the race, I guess that's how she is used to doing things, coming behind from last in dramatic fashion.

And then, rounding the corner to the home stretch, here she comes, breaking through the pack of gentlemen, somehow. Miss Z made it so close it was practically a tie. She just needed two more strides and she would have won. I was so sad. Really, I take things too hard. The jockey was so devastated he couldn't be interviewed afterwards. He had won so many consecutive races with Miss Z. Which made me nervous because how many races can you win in a row, you know? But to lose by a couple inches, you have to wonder what you could have done differently, just one little split second thing. Really, I have no business watching sports. Did anyone else watch this race? Were you sad, too? Anyway, they said Miss Z was the greatest and this race takes nothing away from her, she was awesome and made it thrilling...she certainly did. Miss Z is the most popular horse just about ever, it's like a cult following. We saw a cartoon poster with Mizz Z all decked out in a princess outfit, sitting up, it was hilarious. But this was her last race, boo hoo.

Okay, that was a ramble. I guess I had a boring-ish day. My favorite. Do you know how to spell L-A-Z-Y? That's what CDW always used to ask me. She just told me to go to Germany and not worry about the house, as in cleaning it. Then she suggested it would be nice if Don Aslett himself would come and clean my house. Agreed. You know, a couple of times I have risked all and left town without cleaning my house, you know, hang it all, guess what? Someone asked to spend the night in it. And another time, Mike brought a couple of ladies to see the house, because they had always wanted to see it. Mike got into town before I did and gave them the royal tour. It's a wonder they even speak to me anymore. And the man who wanted to spend the night, we had to cut our vacation short and rush home and I had to clean like a mad woman. And I was, mad in more than one sense of the word.

KEM, the worthless P.S. The horse is named Zenyatta (isn't that pretty, for a horse?). And the rink is Churchill Downs, everyone knows that. (I just played Google.) Off to lump up my Cream of Wheat.

How a great big cat like Robby can squeeze himself between the blind slats is beyond me. I just sit here and watch the show. He really enjoys sitting on the window sill behind the closed blinds. Getting out from behind the blinds is usually more the problem, and he is more successful in his escape artistry some times more than others.

I have the distinct feeling the previous sentence made no sense. But that's okay, you can blame it on homemade pizza. Tonight I made homemade pizza, salad and pumpkin custard. My dad said maybe I could sell pizza. Well, yes I could if the general public would be willing to pay $10 a slice. Because, you see, it takes me HOURS to make two pizzas, salad and pumpkin custard. And when you sprinkle organic cheeses on the pizza, actually, you would be lucky to break even selling it for $10 a slice. No, I do not think I'm cut out for selling pizza on the sidewalk.

And just so we are all clear on this, pumpkin custard, Martha Stewart's, I believe, is exactly precisely pumpkin pie without crust. But it's good. I always appreciate the added decadence of crust though, don't you? I would never put whipped cream or ice cream on top of or next to pie. BUT, I would most certainly lay a crust under it, and, if it's apple pie, over it, too. Same for any fruit pie. Now, meringue is another story, compared to ice cream and whipped cream. Meringue on custard or cream or gelled (word?) pies is quite the ticket to sheer bliss.

My friend, who is whip smart, just gave me a recipe for sinus sufferers. She studies herbs and ailments and matches them up for a cure. Here's what you do. You mix 1 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne and 1/4 teaspoon vitamin C powder. You mix up several portions at once. Then you take one teaspoon of the mixture and mix it with RAW honey. Then, my friends, you try to eat it.

After one dose of this fire ball, I'd say it does more than clear the sinuses. I got all flushed, watery eyes, throat red hot and basically was hanging on to life by a thread. I had to guzzle a whole bottle of water to douse the fire. Mike said, I don't think this is for you. It's supposed to give you energy, too. I tried it a second time, which was today. The first time was yesterday. Maybe you become accustomed to it once your tongue, throat are all burned up and your nerves are history?

The funny thing is, my friend says to take the fire ball every two hours. Well, some things in life I can guarantee you are never going to happen. And making a full time job of incinerating myself is one of those things. That is never going to happen. I believe in moderation. Or less. WAY less.

You know what? I was reading Don Aslett's book How to Clean the Moosehead and 99 other weird housecleaning questions. Something like that. That's another thing I can guarantee you is never going to happen, a moosehead hanging over the mantel. Or anywhere. Anyway, I skipped to the back of the book, ha, ha, and read the section About the Author. That Mr. Aslett, I've always loved him. He is the funniest thing going, love all his books. Someone asked him if he still cleans after all these years. And you know what he said? Every chance he gets. Now why isn't that my philosophy? He said that nothing restores dignity and order to the human existence more than cleaning and taking care of the things we use. Something like that. Now that is just food for thought, plain and simple. Mr. Aslett is a fine man and his wife must be some lucky lady.

Mike's boss invited us to Germany in a few weeks, for a few days. Just found out. Now I need someone to stay at my house and sit with Jazzi and Robby. But my house is not dignified nor orderly, which means I'm not either. I wonder if I can whip myself and my house in shape before we go. So someone can stay in my house with dignity and order. Hmm, this is going to take some serious thought. Actually, it's going to take more than serious thought. WAAAAAAAY more.

Now I'm in a wad. Time to close shop.

I love BJH, she left a COMMENT! Hark! I just saw JEO left one, too. Now, we are clicking! Thank you, thank you! This calls for an immediate white bread, mayo and salami selebration sandwich. My dad can't live without meat on a pizza, so I bought salami and pepperoni. It was from the health food store.

The thought occurred to me that JEO and KEM both have E for middle initial. And they are both highly unsual middle names.

Wishing you all a beautiful fall weekend,
KEM