Like that Klondike Bar commercial

What would you do in pursuit of snacks?

Recently I took a little roadtrip with three of my kids to see their oldest sister ET have her white-coat ceremony at veterinary school.

On the way we stopped at a roadside rest station and the kids wanted snacks from the vending machine. I got Little Boy some Doritos and GG a Dr. Pepper.

(Little Girl had remained in the car. She wants us to think that she never-ever has to pee, or at least this is the position she maintains at all costs when we visit rest areas.)

Then I wanted a Diet Coke, but I had used all of my one-dollar bills and was almost out of change. The Diet Coke was $2. I had put all of the silver change in my wallet into the machine and the display read $1.90.

I now had only pennies left, and without much hope I tried inserting one. It came back out; the total remained $1.90.

I needed a dime. “I’m a dime short!” I complained. Suddenly Little Boy said, “Hey! I see one! There’s a dime!”

We all looked. The dime gleamed on the dirty floor between the drink and snack machine, all the way back next to the wall.

But the machines were housed behind locked iron bars to prevent vandalism or theft.

How could we get that dime? I really wanted that Diet Coke!

Little Boy wanted to help me. He is thirteen now, and has gotten a lot taller recently. He got down on the ground and stretched one newly-elongated arms out through the bars, straining to reach.

GG and I watched in trepidation as he reached … and almost touched the dime.

Then he found a stick and used it to scrape the dime forward enough so that he could grasp it.

Triumphantly he stood and handed me the coin. I was so excited.

“You are the best of sons!” I exclaimed as I put the coin in and pressed the button.

The Diet Coke came obediently out of the spot. Ah, the sweet elixir! I was so happy.

That kid has earned his mother’s eternal gratitude!

Kitty is at War

Cats are solitary animals. Our cat, who is named Bunny but we call him Kitty, is used to being the only cat in the house.  He is almost 12 years old and has ruled our house most of his life, and he likes it that way.


Kitty received a bit of a shock a year or so when my daughter GG (she just turned 22) moved home.

GG had been attending college out of state,  but she moved back home to go to school here in town, and brought her cat Goose with her.


This was a big shock for Kitty. He did not like having another cat in the house.

Goose, on the other hand, thought it would be great to have a friend to play with. Goose is a much younger cat, and of a more playful nature than Kitty.

Unfortunately, Goose’s attempts at friendship seemed quite hostile to Kitty, and he felt attacked. Kitty’s first strategy of defense was retreat. He spent about six months living in the kitchen cabinet.

Kitty gradually took over an entire section of the lower kitchen cabinets. First I moved things to make space for him in one cabinet. Then I discovered he was actually living in a total of THREE double lower cabinets.


When I tried to move a few things out to make room for him (in the space he had already claimed), Kitty protested. He enjoyed having all of the things in the cabinet. He could hide behind them and lie on top of them.

In the lower cabinets, I have always keep non-breakable things, such as plastic cups and dishes, paper products, or storage boxes. But now if I have an occasion to use any paper plates, plastic cups, or disposable silverware, I will need to buy new ones.

Kitty has laid his furry butt on everything we own in those lower cabinets, and it is all unusable now. (I did take out and wash all of the reusable plastic cups/dishes and move them to a higher cabinet.)

During this time, we began to refer to Kitty as the night cat, because he only came out the cabinet at night. Boo put a special pillow in the empty cabinet and set up his food and water in there for him. He seemed quite comfortable in there all day while Goose roamed the house.


Kitty would come out of the cabinet once Goose had been shut in GG’s room for the night. (Goose is that rare kind of cat who actually sleeps in a designated cat bed at night.)

Then Kitty would emerge from the cabinet, feeling safe to roam about and rule the house again. After many months, however, Kitty seemed to reassess the threat posed to him by Goose. He began to sometimes come out of his cabinet during the day.


Goose was overjoyed, and he took this as a sign that Kitty wanted to be friends.

Let’s be clear: Kitty did not want to be friends. All friendly overtures made by Goose were perceived as acts of aggression by Kitty. Therefore Kitty began to fight back.

At this point, Kitty seem to begin to realize that although Goose was younger, they were approximately matched in size and strength. Kitty began to try to become the dominant cat.

No longer did Kitty wait for Goose to finish a plate of wet cat food before creeping out of the cabinet and eating the leftovers.


Kitty boldly came forward to eat, and eventually I started making two plates. The cats ate side by side, but it seemed an uneasy truce.

Mostly now they coexist without too much trouble. Occasionally Goose will try to sidle up to kitty with a friendly meow, but Kitty will quickly shut him down with a swipe of the paw. Kitty seems to have tenuous hold on the position of Dominant Cat.

Today Kitty made a bold move in his personal crusade to cement his position as Top Cat. (This is a war that Goose does not know is being fought. Goose still thinks they are buddies who occasionally scratch each other, but it’s all in fun in his mind.)

As I said before, Goose is a more playful cat, and he has some cat toys. He has some of those feather thingies and balls with bells in them and strings and whatnot. Recently I corralled all of these toys into a corner of the living room in a cardboard box, because Goose also likes to play with cardboard boxes. Kitty does not deign to play with toys.

This morning I witnessed Kitty’s latest advance on the cat battleground. I walked into the living room and saw Kitty sitting on Goose’s toys inside the cardboard box.

I looked at him. He looked at me. I noticed he had his feet a little apart as he was sitting.


I thought to myself, It looks like he is sitting in that box the way that he sits in his litter box.

I narrowed my eyes at kitty. He held my gaze. Oh no, I thought, he wouldn’t, would he?


Kitty stared directly into my eyes challengingly and began to pee on all of Goose’s toys.

I screamed but it was too late. Kitty continued to look at me with unapologetic boldness. Then he got out of the box, and walked away.

I guess I’ll have to throw out that box.

And who knows what aggressive moves Kitty might make next? We will have to see. But Goose had better beware…. 

My fridge is melting

I don’t know why, but my refrigerator is melting.

It’s been doing so gradually from the top. I tried googling, “Why is my fridge melting?” but I just ended up with a lot of information about things INSIDE the fridge melting, not about THE REFRIGERATOR ITSELF melting.

So what did I do? Basically I ignored it until my husband noticed, and then told him to figure out how to fix it.

Here’s the weird thing: HE DID!

Apparently the problem is from the things stored on top of the fridge. I keep medicines, cat food, and sunscreen up there. None of those things was the problem, but something that goes along with sunscreen is insect repellant.

So the DEET in insect repellant is a solvent, and it was dripping from an overturned bottle on the top of the fridge and melting the rubber seal in the fridge door.

He moved the bottle of repellant, cleaned up the mess, and solved the problem.

So if you ever find your fridge melting, remember this, I guess….

I am SO Nerdy

I saw this shirt advertised as a designated Christmas gift for math teachers.

I’m sorry, but this is bad math. If I were a math teacher and received this shirt, I would be horrified.

I understand that the designer meant to reference the song “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” specifically the line, “Fa lalalalalalalala.”

HOWEVER, that equation would require simple multiplication, NOT the use of an exponent. La to the eighth power would be FAR too many la’s.

It should be Fa + (8La).

As you can see, I spent WAY too much time thinking about this.


My 13-year-old son got in the car today after school and said his math class was radical today.

“Get it?” he added. “RADICAL?”

Ah, I see the nerd apple does not fall far from the nerd tree…

I Hate Homework

Little Boy is in eighth grade right now. I saw that he had recently googled “Why does homework exist?”

Although I understand these (honestly kind of preachy) answers given on Google, and of course I told my son that homework is good for him…. and he should DEFINITELY do his homework….

I don’t like homework any more than he does!

I ESPECIALLY don’t like it when I don’t know how to DO it!

Recently he had to study a bunch of equations on calculating the half-life of radioactive elements for his science class. I was lost, so we face-timed his dad, who is out of town for work right now.

That face perfectly describes how I feel about this homework assignment.

Seriously! Did I mention this kid is in EIGHTH GRADE?!?!

Why does homework exist again?

I’m still not the cool mom

I recently downloaded some old-school Taylor Swift to my Spotify playlist and I was listening to it and singing along when I picked up the twins from the middle school.

In the passenger seat, Little Girl rolled her eyes and popped in her ear buds.

In the back seat I could hear Little Boy telling himself, “Remember, it’s not polite to criticize other people’s music choices….”

I thought: Number one, it’s good he’s learning how to be polite.

And, number two, I am SOOOOO uncool.

Updated: 29 September

I was again listening to my Spotify in the kitchen when Little Boy came in from outside. It was playing “Life Goes On” by Oliver Tree.

He said, “Oh this is a cool song!”

Then he paused. “Wait, is this on YOUR Spotify, Mom?” he asked incredulously, shaking his head in amazement.

AAAAND… I’m STILL uncool….

Why is my phone so proud of itself?

I plug my phone in at night near my bed, and usually it’s been on low power mode by the evening since it’s been used all day.

Then when gets up to 80% charge, it lights up excitedly, bragging about how CHARGED UP it is.

Usually this is around midnight, which is when you definitely don’t want to be woken up by flashing lights next to your face!

But there it sits on my nightstand, having a little solo iPhone party about how it’s FULLY CHARGED!

I don’t know why it’s so impressed with itself.

It’s at EIGHTY PERCENT. That’s like a B MINUS.

Get over yourself, iPhone!