Chris and the Tree
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Family Funk
Smelly Cat Coffee & My Dad
My dad likes Friends. Hold on. I’m not really sure he likes Friends, he might just like Phoebe. He calls her his “sister”. I don’t really see the resemblance, myself. Or maybe that right there is the resemblance – the weird ability to connect dots that aren’t there and oblivious to the fact that you’ve connected dots that don’t exist? OK fine. My father’s sister could be Phoebe from Friends.
What’s weird is that I’ve never watched more than a couple of full episodes of Friends. I only vaguely know who the actors on the show were. I might not even know who all of them were, though if I saw them I’d recognize them. I like Courtney Cox. I don’t really like Jennifer Aniston. The guys – I have no idea. Not my thing.
So anyway, I was talking to my father one day on the phone and he started telling me about Phoebe and his idea that she could be his sister because they were so much alike and I was uh huhing because I didn’t get it and then he starts rambling about Smelly Cat. I probably rolled my eyes while I laughed at him. I might not know Friends but I do know Smelly Cat.
All of this discussion about my father and Phoebe and Smelly Cat happened years ago – he’s mentioned all three once or twice again over the years but that first discussion was the longest and it stuck with me. So that any time I see Lisa Kudrow, I think of my father. Any time I see the Smelly Cat video, I think of my father. Whenever someone mentions Smelly Cat Coffee in Charlotte, I think of my father – though my father does not drink coffee.
As much as I love coffee – you’d think I’d have visited Smelly Cat, wouldn’t you? But no… I never have and I’ve always wanted to.
Several weeks ago, my mom called me from some bar in Charlotte where she was getting drunk with my cousin and my sister and she wanted to talk to me about Smelly Cat Coffee. I was annoyed. No I have not been there. Why are you calling me from a bar?! (I might be exaggerating about some of this – slightly – maybe – or maybe not, I wasn’t there so all I have is my mother’s word and… well she’s the one who tricked me into coming to Charlotte so I could deal with the Boo for her so…)
Anyway – I was grouchy again because I had never been to Smelly Cat and everyone else in the world has been. (I’m sure this is not an exaggeration at all and you can see where this is going, right…)
I went to Smelly Cat Coffee!!!!!
And it was a-freaking-mazing (notice I’m not cursing so much? Huh, wonder why?)
I drove over there on Saturday morning. There were just a couple of people there inside and a couple people outside. It’s the perfect rundown awesome kind of shop that I love. The baristas were friendly and interesting. The coffee was fan-freaking-tastic. I even bit the bullet and ordered a Cuban since it was on the menu and I LOVE me a good Cuban though it’s hard to get a good Cuban outside of the Miami area (or Cuba, I guess?) — The Cuban – ex-freaking-ellent (oh, that didn’t work.)
I also ordered a cup of mini-brioche that was yummy and a regular old Sumatra that was just what a regular old Sumatra should be.
I took my order outside and promptly called my father to tell him that I was at Smelly Cat.
The man… did not know what in the hell (oops) I was talking about. It took me five minutes of explaining why I always think of him when I see/hear Smelly Cat.
Eventually – he got it and laughed for a long, long time.
Eventually.
Maybe Phoebe is his sister after all?
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Dogs That Don’t Bark
It’s wrong of me to sit here thinking about how I might convince Duncan to bark. Just once. But I’ll admit it. I’ve thought about trying it (sort of how you might think of ways to corrupt an angelic three year old by teaching her to say bullshit…) A dog that doesn’t bark is weird. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I like it a lot. I’d like it better if I knew she could bark and was simply choosing not to. Which could be possible. She’s a very good dog, after all. Still. I just don’t know. And it’s weird.
And very unlike all of the other dogs I’ve had.
Hell. This dog slept through the dude cutting the grass today. When she finally realized he was here, she went to the porch and just looked at him and looked at me. And that was that.
What kind of dog does that? (Not TW’s mom’s dog, that’s for sure.)
In the morning, she goes out for her sniff (yes she’s really just sniffing the bush), waits til I fix her breakfast – though she is happy to lick the dog and cat food can while I fix it (and my coffee). She wolfs down her breakfast, drinks most of her water, grabs her tin cans and licks those for a bit and only if I say “Duncan, let’s go outside” and walk to the back door does she think about peeing.
Weird dog. I wonder if I can get her to pee on the floor, too. (Kidding, just kidding. Sort of.)
When she carries in the paper or the mail she doesn’t even really slobber on it very much (though on Sunday she did get the Smartsource a little drooly which was weird because she hadn’t drooled on any other piece of mail and hasn’t since. Maybe she was just really excited about the coupons?)
What kind of dog carries in the mail or the paper and doesn’t drool on it?
She doesn’t beg for food, though she will happily come and take it if you offer it to her.
She stands at the open door and waits for you to tell her she can go.
She does NOT walk on the left side like I was told she did but who the hell cares since she also doesn’t jerk my damn arm out of the socket when she’s on the leash.
When she’s in the car, she stays IN the back where she’s supposed to.
What the hell kind of dog does is this?
A mutant dog. She’s cute though. And I like her more than the dogs in Love at First Bark. If TW could find me a dog like Duncan… she could have a dog.
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Petsitting
Who knew petsitting was full of so many rules? Not me, that’s for sure.
When I arrived at my mother’s house at around 1am, she presented me with two typed pages of rules. OK not rules but information about how to best take care of her dog and her cat and her fish (which she had neglected to mention when she roped me into this.) Oddly enough, no mention of the plants which was what was freaking me out the most. I guess my mother realized the plants were not going to be any better off with me than they would be without me. I don’t do plants very well. I forget them. Just like I keep forgetting the fish. (I have not, however, been responsible for the blinding of any fish – yet. So that should make my stupid brother happy.)
Along with the animal sitting, I was informed that trees would be cut down while I was here. And a nice Hispanic man would come mow the lawn – if I answered the door. Oy. I hope I hear the doorbell ring. I’m not good with doorbells either.
I’ve also been sent to the post office to mail a package for my mother. And I did remember to mail the letter she asked me to mail.
So far… so good.
Nobody has died – not even when I fed Duncan her dinner 90 minutes late. Not even when Miss Priss and Duncan tagged teamed me at 6:30am to GET UP. Not even when I made my coffee before I went through the quite elaborate process of feeding the dog and cat (and forgetting to feed the fish.) Miss Priss even ate all of her food though I’m sure I did not stir it properly. Miss Priss might even be beginning to get used to me. Maybe.
Oh, it’s getting dark. I should get dressed and take Duncan for her walk. It’s in the rules.
I Am The Good Daughter
I’m about to get up and go pack. You’re surprised, I know. I just got back, after all. Alas… I’m heading to Charlotte. To dog sit. And cat sit. And plant sit. For ten days. My birthday is included in one of those 10 days.
I’ll be at my mother’s house.
In Charlotte.
With a dog. A Cat. Some plants.
And that’s it.
TW is sure this is some story I’ve made up and I’m really heading off to … I don’t even know what she might think I’m going to do. Lord knows I don’t have the energy to get into any trouble. And, getting into trouble only leads to more trouble and I’ve got enough to deal with right now, thanks.
So yea. Me and the dog and the cat. And the plants, can’t forget those. Actually, I can and probably will because I’m bad with plants. Someone had better remind me. And maybe tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do with plants.
My mother sent me an instructional video for taking care of the cat, in the morning.
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All Airlines Should be Virgin
I’ve been grumbling (mostly) to myself for ages about Virgin America not flying out of ORD. All of my peoples (see yesterday’s post) got to fly Virgin while I was stuck with United. Or worse – Delta.
Finally, Virgin comes to ORD and Lisa Freaking Stone calls me to Belmont. Yay and Yay! Even more YAY is the fact that the cheapest flight option was Virgin with arrival/departure times that worked in both directions.
And… it’s been the most pleasant flight experience I’ve had in years and years and years.
I’m going to be very sad to fly United at the end of the month. Sigh.
All airlines should be Virgin.
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He’s My Favorite
Last week, I sent Jenn a tiny birthday care package that included a cake mix, a tub of frosting, and candles (a 2 and an 8.) She nicely texted me and thanked me for her package but was very particular about thanking me for the Bye Bye Birdie DVD. (Her husband thanked me for that, too – I am sure he loved the DVD more than Jenn did. Heh.)
Then, I turned around and sent Chris a little birthday care package that included a cake mix, a tub of frosting, and candles (a 2 and a 5.) Today, he texted me… “You sent me a cake!!!!!”
Since I hadn’t had the opportunity to sing to him yet, I decided to call right then rather than texting him back. He was very excited about that cake. Apparently he hasn’t had one in a long time and was sort of wishing he could have a birthday cake.
He’s such an easy kid. But 25… how did that happen?
