Thursday, June 18, 2009

Smoky's Memoir

I found some very scratchy writings underneath Smokey's litter box. He has a lot to say. I posted them here because Smoky must be heard.
Memoirs of Smoky Johnson, the Hairless Wonder Cat
Book 1: Wherein I leave my Mothers Warmth
And Travel to My First Home

Picture courtesy of sis-in-law B

I am a Sphinx cat and am therefore special. I revile the word mutant, but I am a mutant in the best sense. As genes progress they have to mutate, there are bad mutations and there are exquisite mutations. I am, of course, exquisite. My DNA is the next generation of cat. Those of my breed are unburdened by fur and unfettered by cuteness. We are the true aristocrats of the cat kingdom.

I won’t dwell on my early weeks. It is sufficient to say I was born. I was weaned. I have only the memory of being loved and warmed by my mother. Ahhh, nothing is like the warmth of a mother. I was then given, for a sizable financial transaction (of course I am expensive), to a lovely family.

This family had such high hopes for me. I was personally selected by them for my hygienic qualities. I do not leave scraps of fur to be disdainfully vacuumed up. I am sleek and hygienic.

Alas, it was not to be. You see I still have one embarrassing problem. I must groom. I really must—I can’t leave the grooming to humans. They are arbitrary; I cannot count on them to know exactly when and where I need to be cleansed. They would never figure it out. In the process of grooming my beautiful body I produce (and now I whisper) dander.

My first family had one major imperfection. Several of them were allergic to (gasp) me!

And thus I left for my new home, for a still sizable financial transaction (50% off I am loathe to say). I must go.

The saga continues in, “I Enter the Home of a Second Discerning Family with Two Young (Very Young) Boys.”

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Morning Musts

When I lived in Bountiful I lived among the greats of homemaking! Most of them did it all by themselves—in Holladay I’ve found that there is a little more hired help. I was stunned in Bountiful by the ability and joy many found in housewifery—since I seem to lack both. I became fascinated by it and soon decided to do a survey. I asked about how people scheduled their house work, how they controlled the paper trail, and how they managed. It was really fun and I will post some of that here soon.

Today I am interested in what you have to do in the morning to make you sane. I have two things:

First I must bathe; I do not feel sane unless I’ve taken a bath. I don’t take showers in the morning; they are too active for me. I have to ease into the day. I usually read my scriptures (only drawback is this makes it difficult to underline and make notations) or if I’m being naughty a novel. It takes about 15-25 minutes depending on how early I wake up. It is for this reason alone that I don’t like camping. I can sleep at night in the wilderness, the food is fun, I love the outdoors—but miss a bath—eeeek!

The second thing I must do is eat peanut butter on high fiber toast with a diet coke. If I do not do this I don’t feel human. It is a crutch that I am in LOVE with. (Often I do this while in the tub.)

I think this post qualifies as over-sharing, but I only over-share in an effort to get you to do the same. What can’t you live without in the morning? What gets you rolling out of bed and into the day? No lurking—I seriously want to know.