2011

Well, its that time of year again. Time to make resolutions that we never keep. So in the spirit of things, here is a "rough draft" of my 2011 resolutions (in no particular order). Please join me in laughing at myself 'round about January 2nd, when I realize I'm going to have to give up on most of these.

1.) Lose weight. Yeah, I know, I know. EVERYONE has that on their list. However, I am paying a gym membership and I feel like I need to put it to better use than I have been in recent months. So, I intend to lose weight in 2011. Do I have a specific goal in mind? Yep, 'round about 100 pounds. Big sum, but doable all the same.

2.) Write more. This includes writing in my journal and working on my stories. I think with a little time management I should be able to accomplish this goal just fine. Of course, as I work on my stories, I need to also submit them to more places. No, I don't think I'm going to make tons of money by doing this, but I still feel the need to try to get my work out there. You gotta start somewhere after all.

3.) Keep my 4.0 GPA. 'Nuff said.

4.) Apply for some more scholarships. I'm on a roll with those, so I'm gonna milk it for everything its worth.

5.) Learn to budget my money better. For various reasons.

6.) Get my remaining wisdom teeth taken out. This doesn't sound like much of a resolution I'm sure. But I'm tellin' ya, if I don't write it down and make it known, I will never remember to do it.

7.) Stop biting my nails!!!!!

8.) Spend more time with my family and friends.

9.) Go sky diving!

10.) Travel to Maine. (If I can't manage that, I'll settle for another trip to New Orleans.)

That's about all. Hope you folks have a splendid 2011. Many blessings and much love.

Merry Ickimickamas

That's how Dillon used to say "Merry Christmas" when he was a tot. I thought I would share that with all ya'll.

Its been a great Christmas this year. A WHITE Christmas...finally. The first white Christmas we've had in a LONG time. That was nice, but it did put a damper on some of the festivities because folks couldn't make it out in the bad weather. We had fun all the same.

Christmas Eve was spent like it has been for several years now...at the Nunn Christmas Eve Shindig at my Aunt Ida's house. It was a nice crowd, not quite as big as it has been in the past, but a good crowd all the same. We played our usual "Chinese Gift Giving Game" (which by the way, I have no idea WHY its called that but its fun all the same). I ended up with a reusable coffee cup, which was great, because I've wanted one of those for awhile now.

Christmas morning was spent opening gifts at home. Dillon got money (which is what he wanted). I got money, books, comics, and some cooking stuff for my apartment. So pretty much everything I asked for. It helps that I got to pick most of it out ahead of time though. ;-)

With my Christmas money I bought more comic books. I made a special trip to the bookstore today with the family just to pick out some books. I was hoping for some Ron Rash novels, but couldn't find any, so I bought a couple of "Y: The Last Man" graphic novels and a Stephen King graphic novel (and yes, I had them all read before the night was over). I plan on going back to that particular bookstore soon and getting more graphic novels (because I'm obsessed like that).

Tomorrow I have to make a trip to Richmond to tend to my cats at the apartment and buy Dillon some boxing gloves.

Anyway, just a quick blog about my holiday. Of course its not what you get (or give) that's important, but it is fun. Hope ya'll had a great Christmas as well.

The Final Countdown

In two very short years, life on this planet will be drastically altered. Ancient civilizations have predicted the end of the world. Some suspect we will go the way of the dinosaur and get hit by a passing comet. Others think its high time for an alien attack. Me? I'm getting ready for zombies. (C'mon, what else would you expect of me?)

Yep, that's right folks. I've said for years "Its not a matter of IF, but a matter of WHEN" and now we know our date: December 21, 2012. Mark it down and get ready. You have roughly two years to prepare for the impending zombie apocalypse.

Don't think just because I've suspected this for years, that I'm completely ready for the legions of the "undead". (For the record, I don't think they would be really undead. Once you are dead, you stay dead. But I'm shooting for some sort of crazy infection.) No, I have some work to do. I'm saving my hording of supplies (water, food, weaponry, etc.) for next year. I don't have room for it at the moment...besides, I'll be foraging once the infected are all killed off anyway. In the meantime however, here is what I need to do in 2011 in order to prepare. If I've forgotten something, please let me know, if I can stay alive, I will help you stay alive.

1.) GET IN SHAPE.
     True, "round" is a shape, but "round" is not the shape you want to be in while a half dozen zombies are chasing you down for a little snack. No, no, I do NOT want to be round anymore when 2012 rolls around. This is why I have my gym membership. I don't have to look like a body builder, but I by doggies, will no longer be round. The trick is, I have to get slimmer, but not too skinny. I mean, I don't know where I'll be during the winters, I may need some extra padding. I do however need to be healthy enough to get away if I have to run or climb, and skinny enough that I can fit through small windows and other open spaces so I can duck and cover or hide. So 2011 will be my year to hit the gym and build up some muscle and stop being round. Remember what we've learned from "Zombieland", you must have good cardio!
2.) HAND TO HAND COMBAT SKILLS.
    Following right along with number one, I need to learn some good fighting skills. This can be accomplished any number of ways. I already know some handy dandy self defense techniques taught to me by a former cop, but I'm fairly certain zombies aren't going to be trying to kidnap and rape me (Oh horror or horrors, lets hope that is NEVER the case. As if they weren't bad enough already!). I need bad ass fighting skills. I need to learn how to properly be offensive and defensive in my hand to hand combat skills. So, 2011 will also be the year I start taking some sort of classes. Karate or whatever. Doesn't matter as long as I can kick undead booty come 2012.
3.) RUN FORREST, RUN.
     I will start running now as well. I need to build up my endurance, not just my speed. God "blessed" me with short chubby legs and clumsy feet, neither of which will ever make me a track star. However, I need to be able to run long distances at a steady pace...or short distances as fast as I can. Either one works for me. So, I'm going to invest in a good pair of shoes and officially take up running. After all, I don't have to be the fastest runner out there, I just have to be able to outrun YOU.
4.) LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION.
     As with any impending zombie attack fanatic, I have my own theories on how it will all go down. You know...what starts it all? How long it lasts? How does is spread? What "type" of zombies we will be dealing with (yes, there are types folks)? Who stands a better chance of surviving? Who will I feed to the zombies? (Yeah, I'll do it.) So, my current theory goes that it will be an infection. I'm iffy on all the details, but my train of thought runs that the infected folks will be very stupid and animal like in their actions (unfortunately I think they will be able to run fast...bummer), and therefore, they won't take very good care of themselves, which basically means, if you can survive long enough, they'll probably all die out. Now, the thing is, surviving actually has its own list of worries (as anyone that is a "Walking Dead" fan can tell you), but regardless of those, I'm just focusing on the zombies right now. I don't have time to worry about the psychopath down the road that now thinks he can do whatever he wants because there is no law in the land. Anywho...so my theory is, head North...or West. I figure if you go West there is less water and they will die out quicker. If you go North, it will freeze them out (or they'll catch colds and die or something along those lines), especially since the poo isn't going to hit the fan until December anyway. So, what I need to do is figure out where I'm going to go and how long it takes me to get there. I need to plan routes that will keep me away from major cities and clogged up roads. I plan on having a merry band of survivors with me, I don't want to risk them just to get five minutes knocked off the travel time (well, except for those I plan on using as decoys and bait for the infected...).
5.) SURVIVAL OF THE GEEKIEST.
      I need to start working on my survival skills. I love to camp. I'm a decent fisherman. I've never been hunting, but that's due to my own impatience and not so much to any moral aversion to it. So I'm not a girly girl in other words. I can make due on my own if need be. However, in a post-zombie world, there will be new things I will need to do. Like...I don't know...hot wiring a car or some such. I need to know basic survival skills for being out in the woods or in the cities. I also wouldn't mind knowing a  few basic first aid skills that I'm not really familiar with at the moment. So, 2011 will be devoted to furthering my own survival skills. Don't expect me to go all "Lord of the Flies" crazy or anything, I'm just gonna be prepared when you get frost bite after we've been hiding out from the undead walkers for a few months.

Either way, there is my list of things I intend to do in 2011 to prepare for the end of the world in 2012 (or at least the end of the world as we know it...with less people and more meat eaters). In the meantime, enjoy the photos I "borrowed" from the Internet. I hope they will help express the gravity of this situation. :-) Until 2012, remember the immortal words of Max Brooks, "Organize Before They Rise!"

Little Bart

I have a photo that I would very much like to post on this particular blog, but unfortunately won't be able too. It is of my cat, Bart a few years ago. He's in a tree in my front yard. The first tree he ever got to climb (they were inside cats remember). He climbed all the way to the top of the walnut tree where an empty bird's nest sat. So in the photo it looks like he might be thinking of getting into a little trouble with some baby birds (although no birdies were ever harmed). Its my favorite picture of Bart. Its the background of my home computer as a matter of fact. I've not had the heart to look at it just yet.

I lost my Bart this past Sunday. I'm not sure why. I mean, on some level I'm certain why it was. He was born with feline leukemia (he got it from his mother) and so his immune system was weak. About three weeks ago I noticed some small lumps under his skin and he was acting very lethargic. I know Bart isn't feeling well when he isn't constantly under my feet or in my lap wanting loved on. I took him to the vet and they couldn't decide what was wrong, other than his white blood cell count was a little high. So began three weeks of vet visits and eventually a solid week and a half of me feeding him baby food and chicken broth through an eyedropper because he stopped eating.

At the last vet visit (the Tuesday before he passed) he still wasn't feeling well, but he was better. He had gained weight and was more energetic and strong, but things got progressively worse from there.

I brought him home to Gray Hawk on Friday so I could keep an eye on him and because, I hoped, a little fresh air would do him good and stimulate his appetite. When we got home he was back to his old self for the first night. He still wasn't eating and he was still pretty puney acting, but he was loving on everyone like he usually does. He even got to go outside Saturday and walk around the yard a bit (no climbing trees though). Saturday night he took a turn for the worst and in my heart I knew what was happening.  I have had a steady supply of various critters as pets through the years...I know what death looks like.

Throughout the night and Sunday morning he couldn't keep anything down. He kept going to the bathroom and puking. He hid from me. He slept on my stomach for a little while Saturday night, but soon tired of that and just wanted to be left alone. By Sunday afternoon he had passed away.

What I'm most thankful for, is that he was home when he passed. Not in Richmond. Although he liked the apartment, it wasn't his home and he knew that. Home was always Nunn Road for him. A part of me believes that the reason he hang on for those three weeks is because he was waiting for me to bring him home. It seems logical to me anyway. Why else would he seem to be getting better, but within a day and a half of bringing him back to the homeplace, he passed away? Maybe its wishful thinking on my part that animals would be that smart, but I still choose to believe it. I've always been one to pay particular attention to things happening in nature and the behavior of animals, so I believe that is possible that Bart was indeed just waiting for a chance to come back to where he was raised so he could say goodbye to everyone he loved and be where he loved one last time. If people can do that, why not animals?

I'll miss Bart. Miss him terribly. I always said that my cat (Bart's sister), Poop, was "my" cat and Bart was "Dillon's cat", because Bart loved Dillon so very much. Dillon used to go get Bart from the little house my cats stayed in and sneak him over to Mom and Dad's so he could keep him in his bedroom and play with him. Back in the day, when I used to bath Bart and his siblings as kittens, Dillon would always get little wet Bart and wrap him up in a towel, take him to the bedroom, and let him sleep on his belly under the covers until he fell asleep. Bart has loved Dillon ever since. Sometimes I think Bart loved Dillon more than he loved me...and I was his Mother. :-)

Bart was in the litter of kittens I brought home from the dairy farm when their real mother abandoned them. I raised them from the time they were two weeks old. I fed them with bottles, bathed them, stimulated them to use the bathroom even, and when they were old enough I weened them and then raised them so that they "never wanted for anything" (as my Mom put it while she was comforting me after Bart's death). Last December (right before Christmas) I lost Poop to pnuemonia. All the kittens in that litter had feline leukemia, so Poop caught a cold and couldn't fight it off and she couldn't be made healthy with medicine, so I lost her first. In May, I lost Oliver to a spider bite. He wasn't a part of that litter, but I raised him with them from the time he was three months old. And now I've lost my Bart, right before Thanksgiving.

I have Emmie left. She was the runt of the litter. She has a BIG mouth and she likes to use it. She has chronic respitory problems but she survived the spider bite from this summer and she's survived multiple emergency trips to the vet for breathing problems and colds. She's a fighter. I feel sorry for Emmie. When I would let the cats outside to play on pretty days, if the other cats ran off to where she couldn't see them, she would let out panicked yells until I went to her so she could see she wasn't outside alone. Emmie does NOT like to be by herself. Emmie and Poop were great friends. They did everything together. They were as insync as to cat sisters could be. Oliver was Emmie's boyfriend (or at least that is what I called him). Oliver didn't like anybody, but he loved Emmie. They shared a bed and cuddled up next to each other every night. And after the other two were gone, Emmie and Bart were together and kept each other company. Luckily, I unintentionally ended up with a little kitten not long ago. Her name is Church and she thinks Emmie is her new Mommy. They cuddle together like Ollie and Emmie did, play together like Poop and Em, and Emmie won't be alone at the apartment now that Bart is gone. I'm thankful for that as well. I knew Emmie wouldn't like being my only furry child and although that wasn't my intention when Church came home with me (Bart was very much alive and well when I first brought Church home), I'm glad Church is there for Emmie all the same.

I told Mom after we buried Bart in my makeshift pet cemetery on a little hill beside my house, that it would do me good not to ever have another pet in my life. I can come across as being a bit mean and bitter. I'm standoffish on most things and sometimes I seem a bit heartless because I'm pretty blunt about things. However, for those that know me well enough, I'm terribly sensitive and easily heartbroken...especially when it comes to animals. When I was a tot, I watched "Where the Red Fern Grows" for the first time and cried and cried. People in the family still talk about that. Its a sad movie but I don't think anyone had seen a reaction quite so heartbreaking as mine up until that point. I cry when I read "Old Yeller" (which I do fairly often) or "The Yearling". And don't even get me started on when I went to the theater to watch "Marley & Me." That was a mistake and a half. I don't cry at movies. No matter how sad they are. Especially not in public. By the end of that movie I was wiping tears and snot off my chin from crying so hard. Maybe you aren't supposed to question God's intentions, but if there is one thing I get terribly frustrated at Him over, its the fact that He doesn't make it so that our animals get to live as long as us. Its unfair.

Regardless, I didn't want to let Bart pass away without a blog in his honor. I will miss him constantly being under my feet to the point I can't walk or get out my front door. I will miss him clawing my back trying to climb up it everytime I bend over. I will miss not being able to sit down without him climbing on my head and biting and clawing my hair (he was my little hairdresser). I will miss rubbing his belly and scratching under his chin. And I will miss him sleeping on my stomach at night. I'll even miss having to grab a ladder when he climbs too high in the trees, so I can get him safely down. He would never climb out of a tall tree unless I was under him with my arms out, telling him I would catch him if he would only get close enough for me to reach.

I am one heartbroken cat mom.

So here's to you, little Pumba Bart Fart Nunn (aka Barticus, Sir Barticus Farticus, & Bartikins), may you rest in peace and always know that your Mommy loved you.

Scarefest 2010

No blog can do justice to my love of Scarefest.

I consider this to be my first experience, although I was there last year. I don't really remember anything from 2009 though because the day before Scarefest, I was in an accident that totaled my beloved Cherry Darling and jumbled my already slightly stupid brain into such a tizzy that I was doped up on meds through the entire Scarefest of 2009. (I had to be lead around. Literally.)

So this year was my "first" year at Scarefest and I loved it!

I'm completely exhausted and pretty sure that I will be good and sick for my presentation Monday morning, but it was worth it.

I love how fans come dressed in zombie and monster getups and how folks will willingly take photos with you (although I didn't really get a lot because I was too busy looking at all the booths). I love the horror guests most of all, but those booths are the ones that fill up the fastest and I hate standing in line and waiting for anything.

I did stand in line for George Romero though. :-) How could I not?! The line backed all the way out the door and into the street, but I stood there anyway. There were DVDs for sale (movies he had written and/or directed), t-shirts, bags, and tons of posters. They were all high though. I settled for a poster of the original "Night of the Living Dead" and had him sign it for me. It says " April, Stay Scared. George Romero". He was due to pose for pictures later in the evening but those were another forty bucks, and I had decided to limit myself on what I would spend today, so I was a good girl and refrained from the photo op. Next time, George. Next time. I did get to shake his hand though. Twice! I could have pounced across the table for a hug, but I was afraid security would kick me out. So I held in my excitement as much as possible. He is my zombie king after all. What would you expect me to do?

We didn't get to visit any of the other celebrity booths because they had super long lines and super high prices for photos and autographs. Betty was sneakier than me though and managed a couple of photos of Danny Trejo (I'll post those as soon as I can), but otherwise no good celebrity shots from me. Maybe next year. Back to Mr. Trejo though...I was expecting this super tall massive man. For some reason, in all his movies he looks like one bad a$$ tall dude. In reality he's about 5 "6 at best. I almost swallowed my gum when he stood up. I thought he'd go at least an even six feet, but he wasn't much taller than me. Go figure.

We checked out booths, took some breaks from the festivities, and after several hours there (and too much money spent) we left and headed to Johnny Corrino's for some grub. This was my first time eating there...or so I thought. Apparently, that is where we ate last year, but I just don't remember. I also apparently got mad at Mom last year when we were there because she didn't get up quick enough to go to the bathroom with me (yes, I was so incapacitated that I needed help finding the bathroom). I am a cranky person when I feel bad. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Regardless, today was a good day. When I got back to the apartment for a brief pitstop to check on my cat, he actually got off the bed and ate some canned chicken, drank some water, and drank all the "juice" from the can of chicken and even wanted more. I was super pleased with this. The new kitten however (who is litter box trained mind you) decided to go into my bathroom and pee in the floor. She waited until I got there so I would for sure see her. She has a bit of an attitude I have discovered. I played in the floor with the cats, then took Mom to Wal-Mart, and now I'm back home in JC for the night.

No homework accomplished today and I'm abso-freakin-lutely KILLED but otherwise, it was a much more positive than negative day...and that makes me happy. :-)

Can't wait for Scarefest 2011!!!! (Oh, and the Supernatural convention next Spring in Nashville. I'll be there too! ;-) )

Halloween Party 2010

Well, here it is, early, early in the morning on October 17th and I am up writing about the events of October 16th. I have too. It was the Halloween Party!!!

I am worn out. Soooooo tired. Probably gonna be sick. But it was all worth it.

First, I want to take a moment to thank everyone who helped out. I can NOT do it without you all. It is a complete group effort. Kudos to everyone that came by, dressed up, brought their kids, brought some food and drinks and loads of candy. Thank you, Thank you, THANK YOU!!! I can not say that enough.

Today, before the party, was spent decorating, doing last minute supply runs, and getting my costume together. I wanted to be a zombie clown (to pay homage to "Zombieland"...plus, clowns just creep me out), but I couldn't find my clown outfit. :-( So I used a zombie outfit from a couple of years ago. Plus, it had been in storage and mice had chewed holes in it, which was great, because that just added to the zombie effect. lol.

By the time 6 p.m. rolled around, I was already tired, but I trudged onward and upward. When the partygoers were heading home around 9 p.m. I was ready to rest my aching feet and back.

The thing that always bothers me about the party is that I don't get to spend a lot of time socializing. I hope people understand that I'm not being a rude hostess, its just that my primary focus is on the kids. Six years ago (that's right, this is party number six) this party started as a smallish gathering of family and friends and was catered primarily to the children. Over the years, it has grown and grown. Tonight, there were people there that I had never met before and still do not know their names or even how they heard about the party. That's a good thing, I think. It means the party is sooooo good, that word is spreading rapidly. Everyone wants to come hang out on the old Homeplace for our little get-together.

Still...I wish I had time to visit with everyone. I feel like I only caught some people in passing. It makes me feel guilty. At the same time though, when the night comes to a close and I have kids (some of which I've never seen before) coming up to me and telling me "This was the best time ever!", "Can we do more stuff?!", "That was the scariest corn maze ever!" and "Can I come next year?", then it makes me feel like I've accomplished a lot. :-)

This year was the biggest party yet. We ran out of daylight hours, which I did not expect to happen. I started the party at six because I THOUGHT there would be plenty of time to do everything. I just didn't expect the crowd we had! So rather than play a lot of games (something we usually do), we only managed to play a few and the pinata was actually played after dark, which kinda stinks, because you can't really see all the candy. Plus I mighta overstuffed the pinata a bit and it fell pretty quickly. Still, as long as kids get candy I am sure they are pleased. :-)

Anyway, thanks to all those that could make it. Thanks to all those that helped out in any way at all. And especially, thanks to all the kids that came. It really is the children that always make it such a success. :-)

Fall Break 2010

This has been an interesting fall break from EKU. Let me fill you in on the various adventures I've had this year.

Friday: Well...yeah. We'll leave that one alone. We'll just say that I had a good time with my friends and family. Look forward to doing it again. Hopefully this time I won't catch Kayla germs in the process.

Saturday: Took Kayla to various places in Richmond to hunt for her keys (don't worry, she found them later) because she lost them Friday night. Felt like poop most of the day. No, not hung over. Just sickly. Again, I blame this on Kayla germs.

Once I made it home, I turned right around and headed down to Nashville to the Grand Ole Opry with my Dad. Saw three drag queens in a gas station bathroom. That was fun. :-) Saw Dolly at the Opry and she sang my favorite song. A song that reminds me of my family and our heritage. A song that reminds me to look at what is in the hearts of people and not their possessions. A song that will eventually end up being an inspiration for a new tattoo. I've always wanted "One is only poor only if they choose to be" tattooed on my arm. And no, I'm not talking actual poverty and economics. When I get the tattoo I will blog about what that lyric means to me.

Dad was not impressed with Nashvegas. Too many people. Too much traffic. But he said he was glad he went and I  know he thoroughly  enjoyed some of the performances, including Dolly's. We are big Dolly Parton fans in my family.

Sunday: Took my cats to the apartment. They traveled well, all things considered and seemed to like the apartment life quite well. Especially Emmie, whom I have always said was a "city kitty" anyway. I left them up there with intentions of going back Sunday night, but I discovered once I got back to Jackson County that my car was trying to run a little hot. I didn't want to risk the extra trip back to Richmond. So I didn't go back last night. I am going back tonight. I'm sure the cat children will be happy to see their mother.

Monday: This is technically my last day of fall break. I'm back to work tomorrow even if Eastern's students aren't back at school. Today I have done homework, packed stuff to move, and spent as much time outside as I can. I didn't get my car in to the mechanic like I had hoped, but I think it will be okay until Friday morning. I just need to play around under the hood myself to hold off a "vet" visit as long as I can (I call everything the vet these days, doctors, mechanics, etc.).

I didn't get to go to classes today due to being stuck in JC with a bum vehicle. I'm not attempting to drive to Lexington if my car is gonna overheat. And I've been sickly all day and bummed out (over various personal things). So Monday has sucked. As Monday sometimes does.

Anyway, that's my fall break. Hope all ya'll that have had or are currently on fall break are enjoying yourselves. Peace homies!

Free to Be You & Me

Today is National Coming Out Day and although I am not personally coming out, I wanted to take a minute to give a shout out to those that are or have in the past.

Attached to this blog is a link to the Wiki gods definition of what this day is and how it all started. I urge all ya'll to look into it further on your own time.

I am a Christian but I have never understood the Christian aversion to all things homosexual, bisexual, transgender, or the like. Mostly this is due to the fact Jesus Christ himself said that our most important commandment (other than loving God of course) was to love one another. Let's think about that a minute, shall we?

Love

One

Another

If every person in the world could love every other person, even just a tiny bit, then think about how great the world could be. I dislike a lot of people, but I love them just enough to let them be free to be who they are, even if I don't necessarily agree with their choices. My theory is, as long as you aren't hurting anyone else, then be who you want to be. Gay people aren't hurting anyone else. They are just people, living their lives, and loving those around them.

I've been told I'm too open minded. That I accept people too easily for who they are. Maybe that's true. It could be why I get my feelings hurt so easily or my heartbroken so much. But I don't intend to change who I am. The disappointment I get from time to time is just par for the course. My cousin Betty told me the other day, "I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you are able to make everyone around you feel so loved."

Its simple. Because Jesus told me too.

So, for National Coming Out Day, I want to say congratulations to those that have come out or are coming out. You have my support and solidarity. For those that are still struggling, be brave and stay strong. Things will work out for the best in the end, of that I am certain. For those of you that don't agree with the "homosexual lifestyle" (whatever you classify that to mean), then fine, believe however you want, but just remember that your words and actions affect people you may not even realize and that maybe, just maybe (okay, well...more than likely) someone you love is gay.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Coming_Out_Day

My Top 5 Reasons Ashlee is The Sh*t

I felt the need this morning to post another family blog. I've decided to make this one about my Cousin Ashlee.

I remember the day Ashlee was brought home from the hospital. I was four or five at the time...I can't remember which, but I do remember a little tiny baby snuggled up in blankets and laying in a wooden bassinet with her name on it. As time went on, Ashlee became one of my little family playmates. She was one of the original two that started calling me "Apie" as a matter of fact.

I used to go over to her Grandparents' house and we would play with her dolls or under the trees for hours and hours. We used to make some splendid mud pies together and I'm fairly certain I talked her into eating a few of them before the day was out. We also used to fight over who got to pick the Willow tree as her clubhouse and who had to stick with the pine tree. Little twirp always got the Willow tree. I'm still holding a grudge over that one.

Years have come and gone since then and for awhile Ashlee lived "a fur piece" (as we say back home) from me and I didn't get to see her that much, but she soon moved back down to Nunn Road where she belonged all along. Still...by that time I was off doing teenager things and then adult things and she was still working her way through the public school system back home. Its not that we weren't close, its that we were too busy with our own lives to spend a lot of time with each other. That changed when we became adults.

In case some of you aren't aware, I am fiercly protective over my family. I can pick on them, poke fun at them, and even gripe about them all that I want, but woe unto the other person that tries to do the same. Its just not happening. And Ashlee is one of those people I am extra protective over. I always have been, even as a kid.

Anyway, Ashlee decided to have me a Godchild not too long ago. I realize she may have had other motives influencing her decision to have a baby, but I refuse to believe it was for any other reason than to have ME a Godchild. I'm terribly tickled with this wee one. Especially now that she is getting big enough to have a little personality on her. And although she looks an awful lot like her Daddy, she has the personality of Ashlee.

Anyway, I have come to the conclusion that Ashlee is "The Sh*t" and if you don't believe me, then here is my top five reasons for this belief. There are lots more, don't get me wrong, but I wanted to limit it to five.

1. She Knows How to Handle Relationships:
     ~ This past weekend, Ashlee went to Tennessee with her Mom, her Cousin, her Grandma, and my Godchild. Ash left her husband at home. No, they aren't having marital trouble, Daniel (duh-hubby) was invited to attend, but he chose to stay behind. Too much estrogen on one trip perhaps? I don't know. Anyway, Daniel stayed at home. On his long weekend from his wife, his job consisted of cleaning the house. Which he did and did a dang fine job of it too. Even shampooed the carpet. Last night Daniel texted me and asked me if  I would bring him some food when I took my lunch from work. He informed me that he had been cleaning for three days straight, was tired, and when he reach into his pocket to get some dough to buy some food with, all he found was, "Half a pack of cigarettes and fifty cents." So I took him some food from Fazoli's. Later I found out that Daniel had access to the checkings account, so I can only assume he was just being lazy...errr...I mean, so very tired from all that cleaning. Anyway, I think Ashlee knows her stuff on relationships, I mean, she goes on vacation for a few days and leaves the man at home doing all the cleaning and doesn't even teach him out to use the checkings account so he can't spend all her money. Talk about a creative way to get his appreciation! ;-)

2. She Has My Back:
     ~ There are many ways I could list that showcase how she has my back, but here is one that kinda ties into number one on my list. Ashlee is protective of her kinfolk as well, especially her Apie. Back when I was having some difficulty (okay, a LOT of friggin' difficulty) with a former flame, Ashlee was there to show her support for me. She didn't blow smoke up my butt though. Oh no, not Ash. She was just blunt and honest about it all. When I would come to her house and spend long, hard nights crying and crying in her bed and asking, "Why can't he just be good to me? Why does he treat me like that and talk to me like that?", Ashlee would matter-of-factly point out, "Because he is a piece of sh*t." No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She calls 'em like she sees 'em. When I was finally free from that situation Ashlee informed me that she was tremendously happy to see that over with, because she had "hated him with a bloody passion" ever since my birthday...not that she liked him much before anyway. Friends are supportive in all kinds of ways. Some are there for you to cry on their shoulder, some are there to build your confidence or tell you everything will be okay, and then there are those like Ashlee, who will look you straight in the eye and say, "Screw him. He's a dumbass and you can do better. What did you ever see in him anyway?"

3. She Is A Good Mommy:
     ~ She is the best Mommy my Godbaby could hope for. You never see Bella anywhere but right in Ashlee's arms when they are together. In fact, this is so much the case that I was a little bit concerned that Bella would ever learn to sit up on her own because Ashlee never put her down. Gladly though, Bella is coming along just fine. It makes me glad that Ashlee decided to have me a Godbaby.

4. She Is The Ultimate Caregiver:
     ~ Ashlee is a nurse, a mommy, and a wife. She takes care of five puppies as well as her own little pup, Bella. She always tries to make everyone feel at home when/if she can. I can go over to her house any time and just help myself to the fridge, fart whenever I want, and pick my nose and she doesn't mind a bit. Now that is hospitality at its finest. But she really shines as a nurse. She always puts her patients first, even when she would really like to just slap their jaws. One night I got a call from her on her way home from work. She was telling me about a particularly difficult gentleman she had taken care of that day and how he had kept her on her toes all day with his demands. She said, "At one point I was thinking of telling him, 'This is a hospital, not a hotel Hilton'." I asked her what she said instead. "Nothing," she replied. "I just did what he asked until my shift was over and I got to pawn him off on some other poor nurse." It takes skill not to tell a butthole to shove it when you really, really want too.

5. She Is A BAMF:
     ~ If'n you don't know what "BAMF" stands for, then I'm not going to tell you here. Use your imagination. Regardless, she is just that. I have never seen her throw punches, but I'm fairly certain she could kick my arse and anyone else's that needed kicking at any given point. So certain am I of this, that I try to avoid getting on her bad side at all costs. I have seen her angry though and let me tell you, it is true what they say about the "quiet ones". You do need to look out for them. Ashlee has the ability (something I am currently trying to learn from her) to cut you in two with a flick of her tongue. She can tell you to go straight to hell and you will be more than happy to do it if it means getting away from her and her sharp words. Our cousin Kayla would be handy in a bar fight (something we want to do together at some point in the future), but Ashlee I'm sure could knock a biker bar patron down with only a stare. She is that bad ass.

Family Blog ~ H.D. Edition

Meet Hyatt. Sometimes called H.D. (which I like to think is short for "Heavy Duty" but really its not). There are a lot of wee little ones in my family that I could write about, but for today, I want to write about Hyatt.

Hyatt will soon be celebrating his third birthday. He's growing like a weed. He was the first in a series of wee ones in a long time. Well...maybe not the first, but he was the first that lives close by, in fact, he lives just up the road from me.

Hyatt likes to come down to the house and feed my chickens. He likes for his Aunt Ida to ride him on the four-wheeler while mimicing "Woody Woodpecker" and he likes to fight with me. No real fighting though...because he could easily kick my butt!

He likes "ludlows" too. He always wants a ludlow when he stops by the house, so we try to keep a steady supply for him. What is a ludlow, you ask? Well, that is what H.D. calls popcycles. From this day forward I promise to always call them ludlows though.

Hyatt also likes to call me "Apooh". In the beginning it sounded a bit like "Abu" but I can only assume he decided I no longer reminded him of the monkey in the "Aladin" cartoon, so he changed it to "Apooh". That's fine by me. I've been "Apie" for a great many years and as much as I love my Apie nickname, I can handle another nickname as well.

Hyatt is still pretty little, so its hard to write about all the things he's doing or what he intends to accomplish, but I wanted to add a little light hearted fun to my family blogs and introduce one of the younger set in my bloodline.

Did I mention he is the Karaoke King?

We put 'em to work young in the Nunn family.

The other day I ran into Hyatt and his Mom at the local dollar store. H.D. proceeded to try to scare me with a Halloween spider...then talked me into buying two of them (which our dog Rosie, promptly stole one of them from my bag when I got home, so I guess now that one is her's) and some suckers (but I gave the suckers back to him before I left). There is an advantage to having a kid like him around...he can always tell you what you need, even when you don't know you need it.

Apparently, Hyatt is a little upset with me for moving to Richmond. His Mom said he wants to come down the road and hunt for me and gets sad when he discovers that I'm no longer there. Rest assured though, I will eventually get some ludlows for my apartment and then he can come up and visit any time he likes and eat all the ludlows (and play with my cats) as much as he wants.

Heavy Duty is always welcome at Apooh's crib. :-)

Will you be my friend?

Since I occassionally like to post blogs about members of my family, I thought I would also start posting blogs about my friends. This one, being the first friendship blog, isn't going to be about anyone in particular. Just friendship in general.

I have been very blessed in my life to have some really great friends. Some of them I've known forever (or long enough to count as forever) and some of them for not quite as long. I've had really crappy friends and really wonderful friends. Guy friends. Girl friends. Older, younger, so on and so forth. I like variety (I think its a Gemini trait).

I always thought it was hard for me to make friends, but I think my friends actually think the opposite. I can be a bit shy (okay, okay, I can be REALLY shy) and I don't do well in groups. Past two or three people in a group and I have a tendency to blend into the crowd. Unless I know those people fairly well that is. Apparently though, I'm not quite as shy and backwards as I originally thought.

I made a friend my first day of Kindergarten and she still remains one of my best buddies to this day, but I was braver back then. I talked more and even sang and danced in front of my class. I'm not like that anymore. Not by a long shot. But then one of my newer friends, Maggie, pointed out to me that not too long ago when I tagged her in a photo on Facebook she was a might bit suspicious because she didn't really know me. She was best buddies with my cousin Sam, but we hadn't ever really talked that much...or even really been around each other that much. Come to think of it, I barely even knew Maggie. But she will tell you that it didn't take long before we knew each other quite well. Why? Because I'm about as open and honest as a person can get. This gets me in trouble from time to time, because a lot of people (okay, most people) don't really like that. Most want to hear lies and half-truths as long as they make them feel good. Most people don't want to really know how a person is, because it might mess up the image they have of them in their own heads. I understand all that, but that doesn't make me follow those rules.

So its like I told Maggie, when I decide I'm going to be your friend, then that's just the end of it. It may not work out that I get to keep you as a friend. You may decide you don't like me. I may decide I don't like you. But you better believe that when/if I decide you are going to be my friend, then I will not let up until you are.

Life is better with friends. You can live without them if you really need too, but they make life better. I'm all about making life better.

Couch in a Box

I have furniture! Yay!

Okay, so its still in a box and just thrown haphazardly around the living room, but its progress.

I had to get my mattresses at Ballards because Big Lots was out. Go figure. But on the plus side, Ballards was actually cheaper.

Still didn't solve the couch problem. Nothing I have will fit up the stairs or in the elevator, so I got a futon. They had one left at Wal-Mart and it has wooden arms. Which may not mean much because its still a futon, but at least it will match the rest of my furniture.

So now, eventhough its a mess (and the "couch" is still in the box), I have a bed in my bedroom, a kitchen table/chairs and a shelf in my dining room, and a couch, two end tables, a couple of lamps, an entertainment center, t.v. and dvd player, and two old cedar chests I'm gonna use as tables in my living room. I also finally have stuff hanging on the walls. Its starting to feel like a home.

Expect pictures soon. :-)

Merry Christmas to All!

I can't sleep.

No, not because of insomnia, but because of excitement. You see, I am going to bring Christmas this year to three kids that have never had a Christmas. Here's the story...

My Aunt has three kids  as neighbors (all under the age of 8) who have never had a Christmas before. Sure they know what Christmas is, but they've never had presents. Their parents' have told them that is there is no Santa, so that is why they have never gotten presents. So, while I can fully understand a person's decision not to convince their kids there is a Saint Nicholas, it breaks my heart they've never gotten a single gift at Christmas time.

These same kids have never had a birthday party. Not any of them. They've never had cake and icecream and a day just set aside special only for them.

Their parents have told them its because there are too many of them and they can't afford those things. And while that may very well be true, it breaks my heart all the same.

It takes a LOT to make me cry. I mean, I am the girl that laughs during sappy chick flicks (even one's where the main characters die) and shows very little tender emotions as a general rule. Yet, when my Mom was relaying the story to me tonight, it took every fiber in me not to break down in tears.

These three small kids are too poor to celebrate their birthdays. Too poor to have gifts at Christmas. The oldest child, a girl, is ashamed to go to school and hides from the school bus because there are kids on the bus that make fun of her for the clothes she wears to school each day. She wears flip flops well into the winter months because she says her parents are too poor to afford new shoes.

It kills me to see people like this. No matter what the reasons they have for being this way.

Each Christmas I try to buy a gift for a kid that I think could greatly use it. Usually, this involves that little Salvation Army tree at Wal-Mart. This year, however, I have decided to "adopt" my Aunt's neighbor kids as my "Christmas Kids."

My Aunt took them some used clothes that had belonged to my little cousin and she said they were so excited to get these things. Used items. Things others throw out. And they were thrilled to see them as their own.

Its not about charity. Its not about the Christmas season or Santa Claus. Its completely about doing what feels right in my own heart.

So this year, these kids will have their Christmas. The first one ever.

When December rolls around I will make sure they have gifts to open. They will have new clothes, toys, books, whatever I can afford to buy them. I send money to charities, but the need is great right in my own community. So this year, I'm spending my hard earned money a little closer to home.

If its the last thing I do, these three kids will have Christmas this year.  :-)

Things I've Learned

I've only been sleeping in my new place for a few days now and I've already learned a few things about myself that I didn't quite know before. Someone (i.e. Travis) told me that living on your own would help you to learn new things about yourself...stuff you didn't even realize before. He's right. And its only been a few days, I can't imagine what I'm going to learn over the next couple of years while I live in my little apartment and finish my Masters. Anyway, so here is what I've learned...

1.) I hate dirty dishes. I mean I HATE them! I don't like them being piled up on my kitchen counter. My place isn't the neatest of places right now because I'm still moving and there are boxes piled up everywhere. I'm still trying to figure out where to put everything in my shelves and all that. But I loathe and despise leaving my dirty dishes sitting on the counter. I only have the one small kitchen sink, so washing dishes is kind of a chore. Mostly though, I leave them sitting out because I hate being wasteful. As much as I hate seeing those dishes sitting there, I hate even more thinking about wasting water just to wash a plate and a fork. So I wait until I have a good amount of dishes before I wash them. That takes awhile seeing as how I'm the only person living there. So I suppose I have to put up with the dirty dishes for awhile.

2.) I hate being wasteful. True, I am a little bit on the cheap side when it concerns some things, but mostly I just hate wasting. Case in point, I turn off my A/C (and I will probably do the same for the heat when winter gets here) when I leave the house. I like cooler temps, but I hate paying a high electric bill. This simply means that if I'm not there, then the a/c is not on. In the winter, I will actually keep my place a tad bit cooler than most people in order to save on heating costs. No worries though, if you come for a visit there will be plenty of throws lying around for you to use. I do this because like I said, I'm cheap, but also because I hope its a little better for the environment. That's what I tell myself anyway. I also have a tendency to re-use items that others throw out. For example, I bought a pack of plastic cups to use before I got my dishes moved up there. Those bad boys are lasting quite a while because I wash them like I would regular glasses. I'll do the same for disposable plates, eating utensils, and packaging. I even save my plastic shopping bags to use later. I feel like a Depression Era kid. Like I'm the little old granny lady that says, "Don't throw out that pickle jar. Wash it out. You can use it for something later." I'm not sure WHY I'm this way, but I figure it must be some bygone influence from my Grandmother (who really was a Depression Era kid).

3.) I'm not a neat freak, but I certainly like to keep things tidy. I think its because I'm a tad bit more aware of how people will view me if they stop by and see a messy house. I mean, I have a lot of stuff, but even with a lot of stuff, you can arrange it in a way to where it just looks "homey" and not cluttered. You would NEVER have guessed this if you had seen my bedroom at my parents' place. That thing looks like a tornado ripped through it. But for my apartment, other than the moving clutter, everything is kept pretty tidy. I'm even a little anal as to how things are put away in the cabinets. You know...cans go here, boxes go here, cooking stuff goes there, so on and so forth. I was a little shocked to figure this out, but maybe its not so odd. I mean, my Mom always said that my room looked horrible, but my sock drawer looked like an army drill sergeant had organized it.

4.) I hate silence. Maggie Jarvis came by to visit me one day and said something along the lines of, "I know how you are, April. You like people. You'll always try to have people around." Hmmmm...really? I always thought I hated people. No one in particular, just the general population of rude, loud mouthed folks that get on my nerves on a seemingly daily basis. However, Maggie may be right. I may like people better than I think. I guess its a Gemini trait. Anyway, I hate the silence of my new place. For now I have no radio or t.v. Truth is, I will have a t.v. but no cable. I hate spending hours and hours watching television when I could be doing something else. Something more productive. But I do LOVE music and I intend for my apartment to be filled with music all the time. Right now though, I don't have any music playing devices moved in, so its a sad and silent little place right now.

5.) I hate coming home to an empty apartment. Not that I want someone to move in with me. I actually quite enjoy knowing that it is all mine, but I will be very happy when I get my two little cats moved in with me, so that it doesn't feel so empty anymore. I can already hear Emmie's frantic meows when she realizes I'm home and she wants a treat. Or Bart's bothersome habit of trying to "fix" my hair whenever I sit down.

6.) I eat a LOT healthier at my place than I do at home. I'm not sure why this is, but I assume its because I do all the shopping. I mean, I bought my own groceries at home too, but Mom bought groceries for everyone, which means there was a steady supply of sugary treats hiding around the house. The only non-healthy stuff at my place is a pack of Vanilla Zingers on my counter and a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the freezer. But who can fault a girl for having zingers and peanut brittle ice cream. I mean, c'mon! Mostly though, everything is low-fat, fresh, whole wheat, and all that jazz and surprisingly, I also eat a lot less of it.

7.) Along the same lines of eating a lot less, I've also discovered that I can't sit still. I just can't. I'm not a lazy person anyway, but I hardly have time to do anything that would count as exercise. However, starting next month I'm joining the gym across the road. I had already made up my mind to do so, but after staying at my place a few days, I've decided that if I don't, I will go crazy. Its either join a gym or get a second job, because I can't stand sitting still for very long. I have cleaned that apartment so many times in the past three days that I'm sick too death of the smell of bleach and Lysol. I don't want to go out shopping because, like I said before, I'm cheap and I don't want to spend all my money. I could study...but who the heck wants to spend all their daylight hours doing that?! So, I'll join the gym.

So that's that, a few of the things I've learned about myself in just a few days.

Bye, bye Baby Girl

Today I finally got to move some furniture into my apartment. So exciting!!! I now have a kitchen table fitting snuggly in a corner of my green room (aka the "Baby Bop" room). I also have a bed sitting in my bedroom. I don't have my mattress just yet, but there is a good reason for this. Dad seems to think that the set of box springs that came with the bed are more that alright still (eventhough the bed itself is a bazillion years old, but more on that in a minute). So I decided to wait until I got word back from the house as to whether or not the old springs were good enough, before I go purchase a whole new set. I also got my two end tables moved and I bought a couch! Yay, me! (And thank you Ellen and Daniel Nalley.) BUT...I couldn't get the darn thing to fit through the door. I live on the second floor of the building and try as we might, the couch would not fit through the stairway door or the elevator. Good news though: Mom is going to trade me couches and her's should fit just fine. In the meantime, I'm sleeping on the couch cushions on the floor. Sad, I know, but I think it will make me appreciate my bed that much more.

On to the bed...

I'm really excited about it and here is why. First, I don't have to buy a new one. Yay, for saving money! But mostly I'm excited because the bed originally belonged to my Grandparents. My Mamaw Mae and Papaw Bob were the first owners of that metal frame and they passed it on to my Dad. I remember it in our old house and Mom and Dad used it up until we built the new place. So, it may not actually be an antique and worth anything to anyone else, but the sentimental value of it makes it priceless to me. We had forgotten about it being in the shed, but Dad drug it out the other day and it was still in good condition and I like it just fine. Dad told me today, "Now, if you get tired of that bed, you know you ain't to sell it or throw it out or anything." I told him, "Ummm....who do you think you are talking to, buddy? You know better than to think I would do something like that." He said, "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to mention it, just in case." Seems I get my sentimental side from my Father.

Regardless, its a bed. No mattress but a bed all the same and I'm very pleased with it.

Tonight I get to spend my first night in the apartment. Tomorrow I have classes all day and then I have to go straight to work. I'll also be spending Monday night at my new place and coming back to JC on Tuesday to load up more stuff to move. So hopefully by Wednesday I will at least have a mattress on my bed. That should be just lovely.

Anyway...

The title of this post? Well, today Mom was cleaning off my tables and getting them ready to be moved. She was dragging one of the end tables out of my Grandma's old house where they had been stored and they are really heavy tables, so she asked Dad, "You wanna help me move this last table out of the house?" Dad said, "Nope." Mom asked, "Well, why not?" To which Daddy replied, "Because, you are trying to move my Baby Girl out."

Awwwww.... :-)

The Thing About Ohio is....

So tonight (well, its 3 in the morning as I write this, so maybe I should say "last night") was the Kings of Leon concert at Riverbend. They put on a great show. I had a great time. But that's not the "fun" stuff from the night. I'll not bore you with a music review in other words. Instead, I'll tell you about my near collision and people watching.

First, the collision. I went to the concert with my cousin Emily and we were nearly to our exit. So close in fact, that Em was applying a fresh coat of makeup to her face when WHAM!!! I nearly slammed her through the windshield. Makeup flew everywhere. Why did I do this, you ask? Do I just enjoy giving my passengers whiplash? Should you never ride with me anywhere ever again? (Don't answer that last one.) WELLLLLL....

While driving across the bridge (this is the stuff I have nightmares about mind you), something happened to four cars in front of us. I'm not sure what exactly because it all happened VERY fast and I didn't see it too well. But here is what I did see: Three lanes of traffic going 65 to 75 mph down I-275 on the bridge. Alluva sudden, little green Cavalier directly in front of me, squeals tires, swerves towards the side of the bridge, comes to a sudden stop, and glass and fragments of car parts are everywhere. It appeared as though the Cavalier hit something pretty darn hard with its front end. There was enough damage to it, that I'm about 99% positive it was totaled. I'm still not quite clear on what it hit. Regardless, I came one ace of hitting it in the arse. And the car behind me? Same deal, only I would have been crunched in the bum.

Its amazing how things happen so fast and yet in slow motion when you wreck or even just witness one. Like I said, I was far enough back from the green car that I don't know exactly who hit who or any of the details. When we got around them, I saw that there were three other cars involved, one being a cop car. But for all intents and purposes, I swear it looked like the green car just smashed head on into some sort of invisible force field. Anyway, in a matter of seconds that seemed like they took forever...I saw the break lights of the green car, saw the smoke from the tires, heard the all too familiar sound of metal crunching, hit my breaks, saw the car behind me was going to rear-end me if I didn't do something quick, so when I hit the breaks, I turned towards the concrete wall of the bridge. I got stopped in the break down lane of the bridge with plenty of room to spare between me and the green car, and the car behind me managed to get stopped without rear-ending me. This was only due to the fact that at the last second I whipped it in the break down lane. Otherwise, I would have gotten hit the ass yet again. I looked in the rearview mirror to see the people in the car behind me high fiving each other on managing not to get in the accident. Personally, I was still trying to keep my burger down.

I swear, I've had nightmares of a) wrecking on the interstate, b) getting into a multi-car pile up, and c) wrecking on a bridge. I narrowly (we are talking inches here people) avoided all three of these things this evening. It was so close in fact that Emily was congratulating me and telling me how impressed she was with my "stunt car" driving abilities. She said, "How did you even manage to think to get into the break down lane?" Its simple really. I've been in enough accidents that now my brain is pretty much programed how to react automatically. In a matter of seconds here is what was going through my head: First, I can't swerve to the left because I'm on the damn interstate and in the far right lane. If I get in the left, I'll get hit. Even when breaking, I didn't just SLAM on the breaks because I knew if I did, I would lose control of the car. So I did hit the breaks pretty hard, but it was a steady pressure. I saw the car behind me was too close and knew I'd get hit by them when I did get stopped and it undoubtedly would have rammed me into the back of the green car, so...seeing that the break down lane was clear and the car in front of me wasn't blocking my way, I turned the wheel right to get over there. I was moving slow enough by that point that I knew I would be stopped before I hit the wall. Phew! See how fast a veteran car accident victim can think? Yep. That's how my mind works these days. I look for danger around every corner when I'm on the road. I always know where the other drivers are and try to telepathically link up to them to know what their next move will be (okay, maybe not that last part, but I wish I knew how to do that).

Anyway, I don't know if anyone was seriously hurt or not, but the green car driver was injured. He managed to get out the car and seemed pretty dazed and confused and there was blood. Not a lot but some. Regardless, I know how that dude feels, so I can sympathize and I hope everyone made it out of there okay.

On to the concert we went and that is where we met "Pigtails". I don't know the girl's real name, but she had pigtails and so that is what we called her. Of all the entertaining people we watched at the show, she was by far the most entertaining. She danced the entire time. It cracked me up, because it reminded me of how I dance when I've had a few too many. I swear, if she had broke out some clogging moves, we would have been soul sisters where it concerns our awesome dance moves. She never once finished a cigarette, but I swear she put away at least a case and a half of Bud Light before the night was over. Girlfriend could DRINK! But the best part of her shenanigans? She got in a fight with some dude. The guy was annoying as all get out. He kept yelling at the band "You suck!" and "Play a good song, you Douchebags!" Well, okay idjit, if you don't like the band, why are you even there? Pigtails must have read my mind, because after a few songs of listening to him in the background, she marched her drunk little butt up there and got in his face. I don't know what she said exactly, but it worked. The guy left. I mean, just left the entire show. Its okay dude, I wouldn't have wanted to mess with her either. She looked like she would be hard to handle.

Other than Pigtails, we also got to watch a girl do drunken cartwheels down the hill. That's always fun. We watched her friends dancing and quite frankly, I'm not really sure what they were doing. Maybe some of you men folk reading this can explain this to me...what is the purpose of dancing like a jackass while holding a cup of beer on the top of your head? Either way, it was funny as all get out to watch. We also saw one girl get packed out and another get so sick that she couldn't even move to puke. She just sat right down and puked between her legs. And to top off the night, we sat behind this group of teenagers: one girl, three boys. Obviously they were two couples. As one very drunken girl was getting lead out of the field, one of the gay boys threw a cigarette at her and yelled some sort of bad name. I'm not sure why he did that because that's not a good idea at a concert where people are wasted before they ever make it to their seats, but he did it all the same. When one of her male crew came over to confront him (aka. pick a drunken fight), the chick in the group steps between them and says, "It wasn't him a**hole. It was me. I called her a b*tch. What are you going to do about it? I'll f*ck you up!" The guy left.

So what have we learned from this concert? Two things: 1.) There are invisible force fields that randomly pop up in Ohio. Consider yourself warned. 2.) Girls that go to Kings of Leon concerts are bad asses and given enough booze, they will kick the ass of any boy they come in contact with.

Orientation...and the rest of my life...

I got up yesterday morning only to discover that there were some problems with my financial aid at UK. I'm sorry, UK, but I can not afford to pay my tuition without financial aid. I'm not that loaded. Hopefully though, I have that back on track. Now if I could only get logged into my student email account...

Anyway, so after doing my daily shenanigans at home, I headed out a wee bit early to Richmond. I had some running to do before my orientation. Dad doesn't have any checks yet (thank you slooooow check order people) and so I had to transfer some funds to my account so we could pay the bills. Oh joy of joys. I just LOVE dealing with the banks. I also managed to finally get over and get my cousin Ashlee's birthday present. I had meant to do that last week (you know, when her actual birthday took place) but as with everything else in my life at the moment, I'm a day late and a dollar short.

After all that I headed on up to Lexington.

Now, I've driven in Lexington before, but I like to keep it simple up there. I go from one shopping place to the next shopping place, but I never, ever, ever venture into downtown Lexington. I'm too big of a chicken. Sure, sure, I've driven in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Antonio. I've sailed through Dallas, Houston, Austin, Atlanta, and New Orleans. But for some strange reason, I get just a wee bit nervous at the thoughts of Lexington, KY. Go figure.

So after several encouraging texts and phone calls from friends, I made it to UK's campus. No accidents. No foul language. No threatening horn blasts from other drivers. All was well with the world.

After walking around helplessly trying to find the conference room I settled in with a really dry turkey sandwich and some fruit and waited for the learnin' to commence. A few hours later and a lot of blah, blah, blah, yakety, yakety, yak later, I was more than ready to hit the road and head on in to work. Trust me, getting the heck outta Lexington is much easier than getting the heck in!

I did learn a few things from my MSW Orientation though: 1.) UK charges ridiculous prices for crappy parking. 2.) Sadly, I did not escape "clinicals" when I dropped out of nursing school. I have to have three semesters of the social work equivalent of clinicals. 3.) Social work professors are super long winded.

I'm a Big Girl Now

Today I took my first step towards complete independence. Okay, okay...so really, if you want to get technical, I've been working every summer since I turned 12 and I've had a full time job every year since I was 17. Sure not all those jobs were ones that the government could tax (I work for cash, I have no shame), but it was still work. Technically speaking I've been paying for my own bills and buying my own food (except when Mom cooks, because let's face it, I don't care how old you are or how independent you become, there is nothing in the world like your Mom's home cooking - not if you are Southern anyway), for 11 years now.

It is a common misconception that just because I still live at home, my folks pay all my bills. This has been a bit of a sore spot to me through the years. I've always had part-time or full-time jobs while attending college and still managed to pull off a 3.5 GPA, thankyouverymuch! But people have made comments throughout my life that have caused my already usually ill temper to flair in a matter of seconds.

I don't like for people to think I can't take care of myself. So, for example, when someone suggested my Mom use my silver Cavalier several years ago without asking me first, because "you and Eddie pay for it anyway", it kinda rubbed me the wrong way...because, guess what? They didn't pay for it.

The only time my parents have ever been out any money on a vehicle for me was when I got my first car at 16. Dad bought my Aunt's 1987 Ford Tempo for $500. I drove the poop outta that car until I started paying payments on a 1999 Chevy S10. That's right. Me, myself, and I paid the payments on that truck. Paid the insurance too. Paid for it anytime it had to go to the car doctor (automechanic in non-April terms). Same goes for the silver Cavalier I drove (until I wrecked it) and the white Cavalier after that (until it completely gave out on me).

Sure, sure, Mom and Dad banded together to get the white one because after the silver one was gone I was car-less for about 3 months and I needed a way to get back and forth to school. But guess what? That $1,800 they spent on the car? Within a month, I had paid them back in full. And Cherry Darling (again...she died due to a wreck) and even Maisy (my current love), I pay for those as well. So all this amounts to is that it is a sore spot with me when someone either a) presumes to tell me how I should spend my money and b) assumes that someone else is "keeping me up."

BUT...the problem is that I still live at home. It doesn't matter how much land I am in debt for or how hard I've worked to get my little house fixed up. It doesn't matter if I help pay bills at the house or if I pay all my own bills. Because I still live under my Mom and Dad's roof, society doesn't see me as nearly as independent as I could be. Maybe society is right. Maybe not. I don't care much either way, but what I do care about is moving out on my own because I'm tired of driving 100 miles everyday to work. Yes. One Hundred Miles. 50 miles up there and 50 miles back from my family home. Five days a week. Plus, in a week or so I'll also add another three days a week to Lexington for classes.

Anyway, there are a lot of reasons to finally bite the bullet and move out on my own, but I've already gone off on enough tangents here and griped about enough things, so I'll not bore you with those. Instead, I will tell you about my new apartment. :-) Its small but I'm excited about it!!!

Its a one bedroom deal about five minutes from work and about two minutes from I-75 which will take me to school in about 30 minutes. Much better travel time than living in Jackson County. I have two large windows in my living room (which is the biggest room in the apartment), but not much of a view. I can see my bank, Wendy's, the bypass, and all that jazz from the windows, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. The apartment used to be an office of some sort. One of my windows still has the smudgy imprint of some random business name stuck to it. I'm hoping that the maintenance folks can get that cleaned off nice and pretty before I move in. Its carpet, so I'm gonna have to get a vacuum cleaner...especially with two cats moving in with me. I was tickled to be able to bring my critters. :-)

There is a small room with two doors that I am certain is really a closet, but I intend to make that the bedroom, because I don't want my largest room to have a bed taking up all the space. My living room is for entertaining and studying and all that jazz, not to have random people that have nowhere else to sit, putting their nasty feet in my clean bed. I'm weird about stuff like that. I'll let my hairy cats sleep in the bed with me, but Heaven forbid someone's dirty feet be under my covers. Ugh. Gives me shivers just thinking about it. Anyway, so the closet will become my bedroom. Its big enough I should be able to fit a full size bed in there and possibly a chest of drawers or something along those lings.

I have a tiny cute kitchen. No cabinets on the walls but plenty of cabinet space on the bottom. The cabinets need some contact paper or something put in them. I mean, they probably don't actually NEED it, but I feel like it needs it and I intend to put it there. Later, I may put up some shelves to sit glasses and whatnot on, but for now I'm not worried about it.

Beside the kitchen is a small bathroom with a door. The toilet and sink are in there. The shower (and here my friends is the tricky part) is outside the bathroom. Its in the middle of my dining room. Yeaaaaahhhh.

When you first come in the apartment, there is a small room and I intend for that room to hold my kitchen table. So its my dining room. The tricky thing is that when you open the front door, the door knob, if left to swing aimlessly, will actually hit the side of my shower stall. So...not only do I need a shower curtain, but I also have to put up something that will hide the shower stall a bit. Its weird, but I find it quirky (or at least that is what I'm telling myself), and so I guess it suits me fine. :-)

Just be warned...if you ever need to shower at my place, you need to either a) have a large towel or bathrobe handy to hide you from your walk from the bedroom to the shower or b) not be ashamed of your body.

Whichever works for you, works for me.

Party @ My Crib

As some of you may already know, I will be moving out in a few short weeks. (FINALLY!!!) I'm headed to the big city of Richmond (well, to be fair, anything is BIG compared to Gray Hawk) or quite possibly, Lexington. At the moment I am apartment hunting like crazy and already packing up for the impending move.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family and there are things about Jackson County that I absolutely LOVE with all my heart, but its finally come to the point that I really just have to move. Have too. I've been working in Richmond for over a year now and although the drive isn't the most pleasant thing in the world, I have managed it pretty well (I mean, as long as other drivers don't decide to run over top of me, which, mind you, has happend twice in my travels to work). The winter time is always a little chancy. I never know if I'm going to get snowed in at Gray Hawk or Richmond. I have family in both spots (and a few spots in between), but I hate feeling like a bum when I have to sleep on someone's couch. :-( But the main reason I have to go ahead and suck it up and move NOW is because I'm starting graduate school soon. I have classes three days a week in Lexington, plus my regular five day work week. Quite frankly I'm not willing to be on the road that much. I mean, I love to drive, but only when its somewhere fun. :-)

So, I've decided to find a little apartment of my very own. True, I have a house that I've been trying to fix up for a few years now, but I've finally come to terms with the fact that its not going to get finished anytime soon and besides, unless I can magically transport Adkinstown to the middle of Madison County, then its really not going to help me in my travel time either way. So...since I am terribly excited to finally pack up my belongings and my two cats (Bart and Emmie will be coming with me...and quite possibly so will Angus, so it may be three cats), I thought I would give ya'll a glimpse of what it will be like in my new Bachelorette Pad. Stop by for a visit anytime you like. :-)

Things You Will Find in My New Apartment:
1. A bean bag. Just one, but one is enough. Yesss, I realize I'm too old for bean bags, but I can't help it. I love them and its my apartment and dang it, I will have one if I want it.
2. The Sims 2 and my computer. Its the only video game that I really actually play. It entertains me on dreary days. I can't help it.
3. Books. Piles and piles and shelves and shelves of books. I intend for there to be books in every room and hidden in every corner possible. I love books.
4. Magazines such as "Bust", "Bitch", "Ms.", "Supernatural" (the show...obviously), "Progressive Farmer", and "Mother Earth News". Be prepared to be bombarded with feminist, environmentalist, farming, and fangirl wonder.
5. DVDs. Lots of DVDs. I like movies. You can come watch a movie with me anytime you want. Promise.
6. Beer. 'Nuff said.
7. Fresh flowers. All the time...fresh flowers.
8. Pictures of front (and back) porches. I love porches and apartments don't really have them, so I'll make do with what I can.
9. My Dad and my Aunt's cedar chests. I'll be using them as tables. They store stuff, they are antiques, and they are just full of awesome. They just are.
10. Other old family stuff. I have a picture of my Uncle Leonard and a white pitcher that are pretty old and will be making the journey with me. As well as an old afghan that some random family member of mine crocheted together way back when. Quilts that my Great-Aunt made and a couple of wardrobes that have been in the family for years. None of this stuff has any value to anyone else I'm sure, but they have extreme value to me. If I decide they have so much value that I don't want them in the apartment (you know, in case someone accidently ruins them) then they will be stored safely away back at the place they came from...HOME.
11. Pictures of family and friends. As well as pictures taken BY family and friends. I know some purdy talented photographers out there and I will frame their work and hang it on my walls.
12. A painting my mother did back in high school. Yes its some sort of Native American chief and I have no idea who it is or why she painted it, but I've kept it all these years and its time to finally frame that bad boy and hang it up somewhere.
13. Cats. As well as assorted cat items.
14. Did I mention beer?
15. A signed photo of George A. Romero. I don't have this yet, but I will get it in November and it will be framed and hung up for the world to see.
16. A framed portrait of Wonder Woman. Yes. I said Wonder Woman.
17. Music.
18. A treadmill. You know, cause everyone needs an overpriced coat rack. ;-)
19. A television without cable. I only need it for movie nights, folks.
20. Beer. Or did I say that already?

So see, the only thing missing is Y-O-U and I do indeed expect visitors throughout my time at my new abode. Stop by any time folks. As my welcome mat says, "We're so excited to see you, we don't know whether to pee in the floor or tear up the couch." :-D

Pre-New Year Resolutions

Everyone I know makes New Year's resolutions, only to break them around the second of January each year. This year, I've decided to make my resolutions a wee bit earlier. These aren't actually resolutions mind you, but things that I want to accomplish between now and August of next year. We'll see how it goes...

1. Give John Goodman a hug. (Because he just looks so huggable. This may not be too far fetched either, I hear he lives in New Orleans and I go there every year.)
2. Meet George Romero. (He's gonna be at Scarefest this year!!!)
3. Go to ComicCon.
4. Learn to crush a beer can on my forehead.
5. Learn to juggle.
6. Ride on a unicycle. (Even if its only for a few seconds.)
7.  Finish up a few semesters of Graduate School with at least a 3.5 GPA.
8. Go on a road trip all by myself and don't tell anyone where I am.
9. Go to Disney World.
10. Sky dive.
11. Bungee jump.
12. Move out on my own. (FINALLY!!!)
13.  Join a roller derby team.
14. Dye my hair completely blue.
15.  Babysit for each of my friends and family at least one day...for FREE!!!
16. Climb a tree.
17. Find a church that I actually like attending.
18. Get my bar tending license. (Even if I never use it.)
19. Get a few more tattoos.
20. Write a short story that is worthy of publication.

So that's it for now. No typical resolutions like losing weight or whatever. Where's the fun in that? Nope, these are my resolutions. I think I can manage. 

Textually Active

I have recently been playing love coach to a couple of different people in my life. This fascinates me because well, quite frankly, I have no idea how to handle romantic affairs. I mean, obviously...I am 28 and single. (Which depending on how you look at it could make me either really sad or really smart.) Regardless I have been handing out relationship advice. I'm no expert but at least I know what heart break feels like, so I can "be there" for someone when they are dealing with that. (Which, in my opinion the best way to handle that little issue is with lots of icecream, booze, and hanging out with the gals.)

Anyway, today I was looking through various relationship articles online and enjoying myself quite a bit. Every one gave different advice. I mean, its no wonder no one ever really knows how to handle affairs of the heart because its so darn hard to get good, sound advice. At least advice without a hint of prejudice. (Same can be said for my own advice to others, because when a dear friend comes to me with a broken heart over some jerk that did her wrong, my first form of advice is, "I know where we can hide the body.")

One article in particular caught my attention, mostly because I like to text people. I'm kinda known for it within my circle of textual followers. (Did I just make up a phrase?) I like to send "Random Thoughts" for the day or "What Is Going Through April's Head Right Now" texts. Those, as you can imagine, can be either highly entertaining or slightly annoying (or both) but I've never gotten any complaints. In fact, both Maggie and Kayla will tell you that they love getting my texts...especially the drunken ones. Maggie says those are "like a puzzle".

Anyway, the article said that the best way to tell if a guy is interested in you through texting is if he sends two messages in the morning, two in the afternoon, and two at night. Really? So there is a mathematical science to this? When did that happen? Is it some sort of concept AT&T came up with or maybe an app for your iPhone? I'm confused. I mean, I didn't realize the amount of text you got from someone meant anything at all. Furthermore, why six? I mean, its my favorite number, but I never really knew it had some sort of magical relationship powers. Hmmm...

I once had a guy text me 15 times in 30 minutes. FIFTEEN TIMES!!! He must have been in love with me is all I know. What ultimately happened though was that the repeated text messages during my work hours just freaked me out and so I texted him and told him to leave me alone. For someone I had never even met, that was WAY too many text messages.

Still though, it makes me wonder what that same article would say about the 15 texts.

Uncle Doug

I have always taken great pride (and joy) in what a family oriented person I am. Its hard trying to keep up with everyone when you come from a BIG family like mine. My Mom is the eldest of five children. Her mother is one of eleven kids. My Dad is the baby in a family of eleven and I've lost track of how many family members I have in my family on his side.

When people ask about my family, I automatically sort through countless cousins, uncles, and aunts in my mind, when really, they probably just mean my immediate family (i.e. Mom, Dad, Dillon), but that is how I think:  family = everyone.

Anyway, the point is, it is VERY difficult to keep up with everyone. I'm pretty sure that even if I didn't have to work or go to grad school or do anything else, it would still be impossible for me to share all the love I have with each individual person within my family circle. I try to plan reunions and gatherings. I try to remember to send birthday and anniversary cards. I try to visit as much as I can.

That is the hard part. Visting...something we like to do a lot of in the country. I don't get to visit much. I apologize to folks for that. Its not like I don't love ya'll, I'm just really, really busy most of the time. Regardless, all that is just to set you up for the star of this particular blog...my Uncle Douglas.

Now, my entire life, my Uncle Doug has lived just out the road from me. When I say, "just out the road" I don't mean five miles down the road. I mean, literally a two minute walk from my house. I can step out onto the front porch, turn right, and see almost into his living room window. Nunn Road is just that...a road full of Nunns.

I have other family members I could blog about (and I probably will someday) but today is for Douglas.The background on him is that he is my Daddy's older brother. My Papaw Bob once taught him how to swim, by picking him up and throwing him into the creek and telling him to learn to swim or sink. We believe in tough love on the Nunn side of my family tree. ;-) Doug is also the father of three of my favorite people in the world: Bridgette, Kayla, and Steven.

When I was little, Bridgette was my hero. I wanted to look like her, talk like her, be exactly like her in every way. She was my idol. She was what I thought perfection was, but as you get older, you come to realize no one is perfect. We lost Bridgette way too soon and I still think of her often and miss her a great deal. She left behind a son, whom we all call "Little Dylan".

Lil' Dyl' was the first of Douglas' two grandchildren. The other being that sweet, beautiful little ball of perfection known as Story. So that makes Douglas the grandfather of two more of my favorite people as well. 

Child number two for Douglas was my younger cousin Steven. My gawd that boy tortured my very soul when we were little. He has tried to kill me on more than one occasion I assure you. We were born a year apart and during the same month. His birthday is May 13 and mine is May 23, so even though he is a year younger, when we were little he used to tell me he was OLDER than me because his birthday came first. I wanted to strangle him for that. As we got older though, we got along much better and now, even though I rarely ever see him, I still love him a great deal and I'm glad he's a part of my family.

The baby out of Douglas' brood was a snot faced little brat known as Kayla Ray. I know I sound mean when I call her that, but honestly, she was a snot faced little brat. I used to hide from her. Seriously. I'm six years older than the girl and I used to see her coming out the road towards my house and run inside, lock the door, and hide. She was mean. But she grew out of some of that...SOME of that. I wasn't that close with her when she was a teen...I was off doing my own adult thing and she was doing her own teenage thing and it just never really worked out that we could be close. Now that we are both adults however, I am happy to say that she is a very dear friend of mine. I'm certain I get on her nerves quite frequently, but she loves me so she puts up with me. I no longer hide from her either, but to be fair, this might have something to do with her own kid, Story. I hate to lock the door and hide from Story. I'm not sure how such a sweet, timid child came from Kayla, but I'm not going to question it. Why jinx it, ya know?

So anyway, my Uncle Douglas is the father and grandfather of some pretty grand individuals. That's basically what I know him as...the father and grandfather of my cousins. I'm not particularly close to Douglas and although I see him everyday basically, I hardly ever take the time to stop for conversation. No worries though, I am a Nunn, that is how we do things. People think we are strange because we barely speak, but we get each other just fine that way. I have often said that I think we Nunns could communicate just fine with each other through a series of grunts and facial gestures. That's all it would take. :-)

So today I got to spend some quality time with my uncle. He rode with me and my Aunt Ida up to Ohio to pick up my Dad. Douglas didn't say much from his spot in the backseat of Maisy, but I liked having him back there anyway. He took a nap part of the way, until Ida sneezed and it scared him (he thought the tire had blown out on the car). We talked a little bit about immigration laws, smalltown gossip, work, the economy, politics, and Yankees (not the team, but the folks living above the Mason Dixon line). He didn't say a whole lot, but he did contribute. It was nice.

I wish I could say that there was some sort of breakthrough in my somewhat distant relationship with my uncle, but that would be a lie. We aren't best friends now or anything like that, but it was nice to just have the time to sit and listen to his tone of voice, the way he pronounced his words, or the stories he would tell about his grandbabies. :-) Why? Because someday, I won't be able to do that. Douglas isn't old or anything like that, but life moves by pretty quickly and one day when the people you have in your life right now are gone from you, it is the littliest of things that you want to remember...like the sound of their voice or one really good memory with that person. Today I got both. It made the long drive to Ohio not so long, not so miserable.

I hope he can say the same.

Here Kitty, Kitty

I know I blog about my cats quite a bit, but you have to bare with me. I'm not married. I have no children, so my cats are my kids. I am the crazy cat lady. I understand this. I've come to accept it. I've always loved cats. Actually, I've just always loved animals of any kind. I didn't get the nickname "EllieMae" for nothin' afterall.

Right now though, I only have cats. Well...I have a cow but she doesn't count as a real pet because she was actually one of our milking cows that I begged Daddy not to sell because she was the oldest and toughest one in the herd and quite frankly, that gave me a tremendous amount of respect for the old hag. And I do take care of other people's animals as well. I tend to Dad's chickens and dog and my brother's dogs and all that jazz. For me though, I only have cats. Which is strange...cause I've always had a LOT of animals. In fact I've called a variety of critters "pets" through the years (pigs, deer, possums, rabbits, etc....). For now though I am stuck on cats.

Ya'll already know the story of me and my cat family. How I rescued them from our dairy five years ago when their Mom abandanoned them when they were only two weeks old. How I got up every two hours that summer to feed four kittens. So on and so forth...I'll spare you those details. Needless to say, I was the best cat Mommy I could be for a human.

Sadly, my kitty-kiddos were born with Feline Leukemia, something that they contracted from their biological Mommy cat. Nothing I could do about it and by the time I found out, I was already attached. So I decided to let them live out their remaining years with me and I would do whatever I could to keep them safe, healthy, and happy during the time I had them.

Last year I lost Poop. She got a cold and as is the case with Leukemia, it progressed into something worse. She didn't make it to Christmas. :-( And this week I lost Oliver to a damn spider bite of all things. Said spider also bit my Emmie, but she has been slowly recovering. She's still not her usual self, but she is continuing to drink some liquids and keeps her wound clean on her own. But she is very sick still and very weak. So I stay worried about her.

And now I'm worried about my other remaining kitty, Bart. Usually Bart is the picture of perfect kitty cat health. He's never been diagnosed with Feline Leukemia but I always assumed he had it because he was a litter mate to the others that were diagnosed. Truth is though, even though this particular cat disease is very contagious (and NO, Daniel Clemmons, this is NOT the same thing as Feline AIDS), sometimes cats don't get it. So far, I've been lucky with Bart. I did have a scare once when he got a urinary tract infection and had to spend a week at the Vet's office, but he came out of that okay, and I've not had a single problem since then.

But he's been acting strange lately. I worry its another UTI, but the truth is, the only symptom of that he is showing is lethargy...and that could be a symptom of just about anything. According to my research he could be sick to his stomach. He could have an infection or virus. He could be too hot. He could have a disease. Hell, it could just be that he doesn't like his cat food (because he's not been eating properly for about a day now). And yes, even cats can suffer from anorexia, so it could even be that.

But I've checked him. No fever. No wounds. No teeth problems. No lumps in his tummy. No visible problems in his hind quarters. So I just can't figure it out. I even broke down and finally bought an air conditioner tonight and plugged it in, thinking maybe he was too hot.

I've been giving him Pedialyte as well as Emmie. She doesn't mind sharing I don't think. And so far, Bart is still urinating pretty regularly...he just isn't going number two because he's not eaten since Thursday night.

It stresses me out when I don't know what is wrong! I want to fix everything and I don't like it when I can't. So tomorrow I'm going to try to call the vet and make an appointment for Bart. He needs a check up whether he likes it or not.

In the meantime, my theory on what is ailing him may be far fetched, but it is also quite logical. So here it is...I think my Bartticus is depressed. I know, I know. Seriously though, animals can get depressed too. And he is in fact exhibiting all the signs of depression. But the thing that makes me think its that, is because he was fine up until a few days ago when Oliver died.

On the day Oliver and Emmie got bit, Bart was fine. He went  outside and climbed trees and played around like normal. That evening when it got time to put him back in the house, he had a little kitty breakdown. He came through the front yard meowing at the top of his lungs (Bart is a quiet kitty, he NEVER makes a sound) and when I tried to comfort him, he wouldn't have any of it. You see, Bart was looking for the other cats. By that time Emmie was in bed sick and Oliver had already passed away. That night, well after I had put them back in the house, I could hear Bart at the bedroom window meowing into the night.

The very next day he started acting strange. He sleeps in the same room that Oliver always slept in (eventhough Bart never slept with Oliver when he was alive). He even sleeps in the box that Oliver used to sleep in sometimes.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I've tried everything I can think of and the only conclusion I can come up with is that Bart is depressed. Apparently cats will do that. If your kitty cat has recently suffered a loss of another pet or human family member, they can become depressed. Go figure. And since all this started the day Oliver died and Emmie got really sick, and since I'm not finding any other symptoms, it only leaves me to conclude it is Bart's way of grieving the loss of his brother.

But until I know for sure, its off to the vet I go yet again. Keep your fingers crossed for me and my furry children.