Kitty of terror

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a soft noise coming from across the room. I blearily opened my eyes and scanned the bedroom. It seemed to be empty, so I nestled back into my pillow to go back to sleep. Until I heard the sound again, and then saw the closet door sliding open, very slowly. Naturally, in my dazed state, this was my first thought:


I laid there, still half asleep, gibbering in fear (hey, you all know my feelings about closets in darkened rooms) and trying to figure out what I could use as a weapon. My pillow? The glass of water, ala Signs? The most boring book in the universe? (One reviewer called it "profound" but I think the word they were looking for was "pretentious".)

The door continued sliding slowly, inexorably open. I had just about reached the point where I was either going to wet the bed or pass out from terror when I heard a cheerful, "Rrr...Raouw?"

Jake. It was Jake. The kitty who is incapable of meowing without it sounding like he's asking a question. He likes to slip inside the closet and make a little nest of the clothes on the bottom shelf to sleep in, and had obviously figured out how to open the door himself after being accidentally closed in.

So I guess the closet is still free of axe wielding maniacs or monsters. For now.

Zombies. What's your plan?

Last night, I dreamed that the magnet giving Lisa's husband John was a psychotic zombie out for blood.


In retrospect, he was actually a very polite and friendly member of the undead, but he was still out for blood - and more specifically, my blood, along with that of my zombie fighting comrades. Just as John had finished slaughtering my buddies and was reaching for me, I woke up in a cold sweat, then dove frantically further under the blankets to squash myself up next to Ben for protection (how he'd protect me I have no idea, since he's pretty much comatose when sleeping and would probably willingly throw me to the zombies if it meant he could go back to sleep afterward). I also refused to look toward the wall lest Zombie John was standing by my bed. (It made sense when I was half asleep, m'kay?)

Anyhoodle, I realized later today - when less wracked by brain curdling fear - that although I've been pretty open about my fear of the undead, I don't have an actual contingency plan in place to deal with them should the need arise. So this morning, I've settled down with a very civilized cup of tea and am planning to rectify the situation.

Zombie survival plans are hardly new - in fact, there are whole websites dedicated to nothing else (some of which are incredibly detailed). A few of the most popular options:

COSTCO

The Plan - The best idea I've seen so far is to retreat to your nearest Costco as fast as possible once you learn of the zombie epidemic - after all, Costco is full of plenty of food, medicine, a solid shelter with few entry points, and enough tools and kitchen implements to create a decent arsenal of amateur weaponry. Variations on this plan include Wal-Mart or your nearest mall as alternate refuges, but both of those seem less secure to me, as do the popular "I'd go to my middle school, it's pretty secure" plans.

The Sticker - There aren't any Costco stores in Australia, and I don't think the other locations sound particularly safe.


GET A BOAT


The Plan - Since zombies can't swim, anyone on a boat is safe. Presumably you would want to be on a large yacht and have enough equipment for fishing and de-salinating water indefinitely, although scurvy would likely be an issue.

The Sticker - We're not anywhere near the coast. We do have a local dam we could probably paddle around in for a few days, but nowhere near the amount of supplies we'd need. (Side note: why do I keep saying WE? I seem to have forgotten already that Ben would gladly feed me to zombies for a good night's sleep. What do I want to save his sorry ass for?)


MOUNTAIN CLIMBING


The Plan - Simply proceed up the nearest mountain, since zombies are notoriously slow moving and would likely find climbing difficult (of course, this is assuming you get the old school zombies, not the new breed that can out run, out fight, and certainly out eat you). The downside, of course, is that you'd either have to carry enough food with you to outlast the siege, or learn to enjoy squirrel carpaccio.

The Sticker - Unfortunately, my town is a little light on handy mountains; although it's tucked away in a valley just over a mountain range, there are limited roads in the area - and since you'd definitely want to be traveling in a car in order to outrace any of the peskier undead, you'd doubtlessly be cornered and devoured well before you could even begin to get near the ridges.


Of course, all of this is assuming zombies make it here in the first place. Since history has clearly shown that the invasion is most likely to start in the USA (or parts of England), they'd either have to doggy paddle across the ocean (and remember, zombies can't swim - take THAT, meatheads!) or take a 15 hour plane flight to get here. Which might possibly be boring enough to kill even the undead.

This really makes the best zombie survival plan quite simple: move to Australia. Any takers?

Someone is turning 33 today

Happy birthday, honey - I love you!

I want to buy a house

I love tiny spaces. Really tiny. I'm about as far the opposite of claustrophobic as you can get. I would be quite cheerful if you tucked me away in a closet. In fact, as a kid I used to like secretly hiding in cupboards when possible. (Sooooo cozy!) Which means I just about passed out from sheer joy when I saw these:


That is Jay Shafer, standing in front of his Tiny House. His really, really tiny house. Jay designs miniature, complete houses - and they are gorgeous. Detailed and completely functional, every design includes a living space plus a kitchen, bathroom, and sleeping loft, all stuffed into less square footage than some people have in their walk-in closets. Check out the video tour:

If it wasn't for Ben (who would rapidly turn into an axe wielding psychopath in a space that small), I would absolutely live in one of these little beauties. It's like the hidey cupboard of my dreams!

When I eventually get around to decorating...

...I feel I may need some of these bookshelves:


Stand back - I may swoon.

I got a D!

I finally received my grade (or "mark," as they call them here) for my first major grad school assignment - and I got a D! YES!!!

Since any Americans are probably trying to figure out why that's a good thing, Australia uses a different grading structure to the A-B-C system that we're used to:

HD - High Distinction
Outstanding or exceptional work in terms of understanding, interpretation and presentation

D - Distinction
A very high standard of work which demonstrates originality and insight

C - Credit
Demonstrates a high level of understanding and presentation and a degree of originality and insight

P - Pass
Satisfies the minimum requirements

F- Fail
Fails to satisfy the minimum requirements

In fact, not only did I get a D - I got a HD! That's right, baby - the highest grade available!

I was pretty nervous about this assignment; not did I graduate from college eight years ago, but I was unsure how the Australian grading criteria would compare to what I had experience with in the States - frankly, I was just hoping not to fail miserably, so this is well beyond my expectations. Go me!

Zee Cruise: Men With Girly Umbrella Drinks

No, I'm still not done with the recap. Yes, it's a month later. Yes, there were five unrelated posts between my last recap and this one. That's just how I roll, folks.

This would be the man, holding the the girly umbrella drink:


The drink is a lava flow, which I discovered while we were on our honeymoon in Hawaii. They are ridiculously delicious. If you're ever at the Ihilani Resort while on Oahu, I strongly recommend trying them there - hands down the best I had anywhere on the island.

That said, the cruise took it up a notch. Instead of just having the traditional strawberry mix, they had four flavors, which we decided should all be sampled one afternoon in the name of performing a civic duty for my lava flow loving friend Nicole (naturally, this took place over a fight to the death friendly game of Othello):

Top: strawberry and mango

Bottom: wildberry and papaya

All I can say is...Nicole, if you ever cruise with Royal Caribbean, try the wildberry lava flow. You will hate yourself forever if you don't.

I'm gonna be a superhero when I grow up

Just like these guys.

Silly man. Doesn't he know that you should never wear a cape?

My husband's disfigurement

Yesterday's post about our anniversary reminded me of something that happened before we got married. I didn't wear rings very often, so my engagement ring took some getting used to. One day I was rubbing the skin on my finger where the ring sat, feeling the growing indentation. Ben asked me what I was doing:

ME: "When you wear a ring all day for a long time, you eventually get a little indent in your finger."
BEN: "Indent?"
ME: "Yeah. And the area gets kind of shiny and lightly calloused as well."

There was a tiny pause while Ben absorbed this information, and then he squealed, "I'm going to be...DISFIGURED?!?" He was so horrified that he very nearly refused to wear a wedding ring at all. But naturally, I wore him down. As did his ring.


One year on, the disfigurement is well on its way.

Happy Anniversary to us!

Hard to believe it's already been a year since this:


And this:


And this:


Time flies when you're having fun! I love you, Ben.