I Hate How We Do Tornado Sirens

I drove home from downtown up here under the blare of tornado sirens. I was searching frantically on the radio for news, to see if I should stop at Fisk and take cover. The rotation was way south of me.

I feel like I freak the fuck out about weather, but I have to tell you, having sirens go off in my neck of the woods–which to me means “take cover; immediate danger” when the threat is nowhere near me? It’s making even me, worrywart of the century, complacent.

We need to be better able to pinpoint which areas just need to keep an eye out and which areas need to get the fuck in their safe spot.

Two Things

Ugh, I’m in the middle of some madness, but here are two things to consider.

1. Rachel’s post on SJR 127, which is back up for a vote today and which, of course, is going to pass. This is one of the reasons I don’t give a shit about term limits. David Fowler isn’t in office any more and yet, he still gets as much say about what goes on in my vagina as I do. That’s not right. And I’m sad that evil, huckster fraud has not yet been brought down by some kind of hilarious scandal. But instead, he’ll get to continue to strip away the rights of Tennessee women in order to make himself feel like a man until… I don’t know… until the Legislature decides he’s an evil bully they don’t have to listen to. Which I don’t see happening any time soon.

2. I’m not the biggest Wallace fan, as you know if you read me, and I find suicide upsetting to a degree that it make me a mess to even try to talk about it. I say that all as a caveat to say that I cannot understand just what the fuck Franzen is up to. Is he just grieving badly or is it some kind of jealousy thing where he’s trying to position himself as the “real” quintessential writer of the late 20th century instead of Wallace or is he just a giant douche or what?

Cats are Annoying

I swear, if a dog misses breakfast, you know it’s time to turn out the search party. Dogs do not miss breakfast. I mean, even think about it. The idea that you’d do something at a set time pretty regularly and a dog would not at least stick his head in to see if it was happening? I think a dog could be in the middle of a giant dog orgy–sex, stinky things to roll in, goose poop far and wide for the eating, a whole area devoted to crotch licking where people who are thoroughly grossed out by it are forced to listen. I’m talking a dog Bacchanalia here.

Dogs carrying on in ways that would make Dionysus blush and your dog could be right in the middle of that and if he heard you dropping food into his bowl, he’d be all “BRB” to his buddies and come and check it out. (Yes, it’s a little known, but self-apparent fact that dogs communicate much like pre-teens, except for instead of LOLing, they’re always BOLing.)

Cats, though? If a cat’s not their for breakfast, who the fuck knows why? I mean, even if a cat shows up for breakfast, he could do like the orange cat and be all “Um, fuck that shit. I only eat the chunky kind” and walk away.

But when the new kitty did not show up for breakfast yesterday and then did not show up for lunch and did not show up when I hollered at her before I went to bed, I freaked the fuck out. I mean, sure, you’re bound to lose a cat every once in a while. But two cats? You loose two cats too close together and it’s unseemly.

And I may have been a little sick to my stomach about it on our walk this morning–speaking of which, they’ve tilled part of the pasture behind us. And that’s good dirt in there! It’s funny. You think that little creek running through the yard is just a kind of bullshit creek, but it is running, at least out back, between two very different kinds of dirt. On our side of the creek, the dirt is tan and very clay-like. On the far side of the creek it’s deep, dark brown, almost black. I’m excited to see what he puts in there.

Anyway, so I was all worried about the new cat and whether she would disappear and I would never see her again, like Stella, rest her soul.

But when I got back to the house, she was already inside, annoyed that breakfast was late.

I said, “Where have you been?!”

But apparently she thought it was none of my business, because she was silent on the matter.