Tag Archives: Milo

The Scariest Morning I’ve Had In a While (Don’t worry. It ends well.)

For anyone just tuning in around here, I have one husband, two children and two pets. Sometimes I feel like we should get a third pet just for the rhythm and flow of that first sentence. Then I regain my sanity and realize you don’t take on another live responsibility so the description of your life is more poetic. Milo the cat and Herve the hamster are plenty. (shaking head at my own stupidity) Why am I explaining the cast of characters in my home? Because they all figure into the lunacy of my morning today. Prominently.

Milo (left) and Herve (right). BFFLs … I guess.

My day started like all others. Too early. With my eyes first opening around 5am. Followed by the realization that I had to pee. Nothing new. (Damn, peanut-sized bladder.) Then, for the next hour, my brain woke me every five to seven minutes in a cold sweat thinking I’d overslept. On a school morning. A school morning with exams. It just can’t happen.

I’m the rooster in the family. I’m the first one up every day. It’s my job to wake everyone up, one by one. And I always start with Dean, my 15-year-old son. Between homework, after school activities and televised athletic events, that poor kid never gets enough sleep during the week. As such, he’s hard to wake up in the morning so I usually spend a few minutes just hanging out with him chatting in the dark. (I don’t mind it one bit, by the way. It’s some of the best conversation we have all day.) And, while we’re chatting, Milo usually drifts in and out of the room waiting for us to get up and fill his food bowl.

Everything was following the usual pattern this morning until I exited his room to start getting ready. And I noticed Milo fixated on my daughter’s closed bedroom door. She was still asleep. But Milo was staring at the bottom of her door with the focus of an English Pointer voted Best in Show.

I knew something was up. A bug? Maybe even a roach? I didn’t know. But from the backlighting coming from within her room, I could see that something was pressed against the bottom crack of the door. The hallway was still dark and my eyes were still sleepy so I called my teenage son to come inspect the situation. He walked over and crouched down on the floor to get Milo’s perspective. Then he spoke. Nothing could have prepared me for his next words.

“I see a hand, a furry hand, much bigger than Herve’s, reaching in and out.” I stared at him in disbelief and my blood ran cold.

What was on the other side of the door to the room where my daughter lie fast asleep?!!?

For reasons of which I am not proud, I took off not into her room but down the hall to my bedroom where Dave was still asleep. “Get up! Get up! Get uuuuuup!!!! Dean said there’s something in Vivien’s room sticking a hand out under the door. And he said it’s NOT HERVE!!!”

Dave jumped out of bed from a deep sleep, totally discombobulated and ran down the hall …. past Vivien’s room, mind you … and into the living room.  He looked around, totally confused and likely still half asleep, when he got there. “NOOO! In your daughter’s room. It’s in your daughter’s room,” I yelled.

Dave ran back to her room and threw the door open a little harder than he probably should have. Given the fact that it WAS Herve. (pause for collective exhale) He was just on the other side of the door. Alive, I should probably add. Harmless, old man Herve who had a stroke last Christmas Day and now pulls to the left when he walks and falls over into a ball every few steps was the thing that had just scared the living daylights out of everyone.

Dave scooped him up, checked him out and declared him to be fine. I stopped almost swallowing my tongue and started breathing normally again. We hugged Milo and applauded his probably-not-intentional rescue efforts. And we instructed our obviously-more-blind-than-we-thought son to go put his contacts in immediately. Oh, and Vivien? She slept through all of it. The noise, the running, the panic. Good God, I envy that kind of sleep.

Of course, how Herve escaped his cage (I suspect the door wasn’t properly latched) and further how he survived the two-and-a-half foot drop to the hardwood floor unscathed (that would be like me falling four stories) will forever remain a mystery. Needless to say, there’s an extra latch on his little door now … should Houdini ever decide to go for an encore. And the cage? Well, that’s now located safely on the floor.

Seriously? You can’t tell me there’s a huge, furry hand coming out of my child’s room and not expect me to lose control. I think my heart’s finally starting to descend from my throat.


The Last FOUR Pictures I Tweeted

Blogger Mavens. I don’t know how they do it. It seems I’m always either ignoring Twitter … or Facebook … or Instagram … or my blog commenters … or posting anything new at all. There are only so many hours in the day. How do these people find time to eat, interact with their children and keep themselves clean? I guess I just need to accept the fact that I will always be slacking off somewhere.

And now it’s summer. My kids are home much more (honestly – yay!).  Plus I’m trying to keep up with this daily numbered thing (honestly – WTF was I thinking?). So my social media presence is suffering. And all I can say is THANK GOD FOR THE CAT! I had to laugh when I saw that every one of the latest pictures I tweeted was of his furry, orange face. Of course, in his defense, he’s a natural-born felinedian. (Feline comedian. I’m trying it out to see if it catches on.)

Wanna see his latest portfolio? (awkward pause) Well, I’m sharing it with you anyway.

1. Seeking companionship.


2. Exercising his creativity.


3. In a moment of self-loathing.


4. Masquerading as as a possum (opossum? nasty, disease-ridden marsupial?) and playing dead on my porch. That is one weirdly talented cat. (wink)



June is Blog Post by Numbers Month. Wanna play with Mel and me? Just write a “listy-type” post with a number in the title (ex. FOUR Reasons I Love Mayonnaise, SIX Things You Can Do With A Paper Clip). Then link back to us and tweet us about it so we can include you on June 30th in our final list: (Number-Yet-To-Be-Determined) Great Bloggers Who Played the Blog Post by Numbers Game!

Vote for me @ Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory






The ODNT, Jr. “Vote for My Mom” Campaign (Part 3)

Maybe it’s because it’s a big election year.

Maybe it’s because she loves me.

Or maybe it’s just because it provides yet another platform for her to showcase her two favorite little varmints.

In any event, my girl is determined to help me secure my position in the Circle of Moms Top 25 Funny Moms Contest. Previous campaign efforts include Herve in the Kitchen and Herve’s Crippling Food Issues. And now she’s back with a third creation, her latest pro-ODNT propaganda entitled “The Case of the Missing Hot Pocket.”


Confused? Don’t be. It’s a pretty simple concept. She draws something funny, you laugh hysterically and then you think to yourself, “Gosh, what a funny blog! I wonder if there are any nice people out there who give awards for this kind of crazy stuff.” Well, wonder no more. The answer is yes. You can vote right here. Every day until February 13. And here’s how:

1. Click here.

2. Scroll down to ODNT.

3. Click “VOTE.”

Silver Circle – Vote daily AND pressure friends to do the same.

Gold Circle – Vote daily, pressure friends to do the same AND post on all social media.

Platinum Circle – Vote daily, pressure friends to do the same, post on all social media AND wear sandwich board whenever awake to help promote the cause.

You can vote for as many women as you like. I recommend AccordingToMags, HotMessMom and Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms … to name just a few. Take a minute and look around once you’re in. There’s a whole mess of funny at that party. Just remember to vote. So ODNT, Jr’s efforts aren’t all in vain. Thanks.

* * * * * Got five seconds? * * * * *

Please click that FANCY PANTS PINK BALL (above) to visit the Circle of Moms site and vote for ODNT for Top 25 Funny Moms.

I need this, people! Someone stole my Hot Pocket!

Vote daily ’til February 13. Thanks!


Please Help Make My Cat’s Dream a Reality!

My cat has a dream. And it’s a simple one. He’s always wanted to roll around in $1000 cash. I know. I think it’s a weird dream for a cat, too. I totally would’ve thought birds. Or some kind of smelly fish. But that’s what he said. And, as you can see, he’s been practicing.


He’s only worth $40 in this shot.

Want to help make his dream come true? All you have to do is CLICK THE IMAGE BELOW. Then, when the link opens,  READ it and … by all means … LIKE it. Even if you hate it.


Oh, and there’s one more thing. Please SHARE the book. HOWEVER and WHEREVER you can. Here are a few suggestions:

  • Facebook, Twitter & Pinterest
  • Public bathroom stalls
  • Handheld signs at traffic intersections
  • Small, tasteful tattoos
  • Church bulletins
  • Graffiti on interstate overpasses
  • Commandeering the department store intercom while no one is watching to make an announcement
  • Tiny sandwich boards fashioned to your pets or children
  • Skywriting
  • Shoe polish messages on your car windows (and all others in the office parking lot)

Too much? Fine. Then, just do the first one. Remember, this is Milo we’re talking about. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for him?

P.S. I’ll further sweeten the pot. Using the comments below, you are invited to submit questions you want me to answer if I win.  Duh, all submissions must be PG-13 or below.  In the event of my victory, I will pick one at random and answer it.



Easily my WEIRDEST post … and it’s a pretty stiff competition

There are a great many writers with whom I’ve become connected through challenges like Trifecta, One Hundred Word Song and Finding the Funny. We all try to support each other by reading and critiquing each other’s work and, when possible, offering ideas of our own to inspire further composition. Recently, one of these writers created his own version of Mad Libs (my title, not his) where each participant was given his or her own set of guidelines, drawn from a hat of ideas.

These were my parameters for this entry:

  • Object #1 – Camera
  • Object #2 – Photo
  • Location – NYC 2112 
  • Plot – I am Milo! (Get it? Milo is the last cat… like ‘I Am Legend, the Will Smith remake.)
  • Genre – Romantic Comedy
  • Word count – 500 words exactly

I may have stretched the interpretation of “romantic comedy” a bit here and I’m not too comfortable with science fiction so I’ve never even seen I Am Legend. Still, if you like it, Mr. Brain Tomahawk, then my work here is done.

I think this post might just be nominated for a Blogger’s Razzie …

* * * * * * * * *

Rats, Cats & Flying Automobiles

* * * * * * * * * 

The year was 2112 … and the planet had undergone a major structural transformation. In the newly three-tiered world, a frightened cat roamed the streets of what was New York City, located on the middle level of society now known as Terra. Constantly plagued by the buzzing of the colonies above and beneath him, Milo knew he must fight to stay alive using only his feline wits and his filthy, road-weary paws. He wanted to hide but knew he must be found … but by the right colonization … before it was too late.

Located miles above the Earth’s surface, Supra was a community of humans living in hovering structures kept aloft by a synthetic chemical (colloquially called Airborne) found in a Polaroid photograph. Thought to be a useless relic until this groundbreaking discovery many years ago, the Polaroid camera (for the second time in its history) became an overnight sensation and the most sought-after product on the planet in 2012.

Located miles beneath the Earth’s surface, Infra was a community of rats who, because of a mutated virus contracted from years of sewer dwelling, were able to reproduce at an increasingly alarming rate. Challenged with overcrowding in their subterranean environment, the rodents began coming above ground in search of new species with which to expand and diversify their monolithic population. NY Times Staff Writer Stu Pidass wrote Romantic Comedy? No, it’s a Romantic Tragedy that these overly amorous rodents will soon be taking over our fair planet!”

Terrified by the aggressive vermin, humans fled to the skies to create a super community, taking all of their loved ones and worldly possessions with them. One such family, the descendants of the illustrious Phineas P. Polaroid, rose to great wealth and celebrity in the wake of this crisis. The Polaroids saw fame the likes of which they hadn’t experienced in over a century. They had everything they could have ever wanted, except for their beloved family cat, Milo.

Consumed with a crippling greed in 2012 (the pinnacle of the Great Rat Crisis), the Polaroids stayed back on ground-level Earth in a desperate attempt to take the money of every last inhabitant. “Hurry … before the price of Airborne goes sky high!” “The rat problem is sky rocketing. Get Airborne today!” AND “Relax … and get your head in the clouds … with Airborne!” were just a few of the ad campaigns used to sell their product amidst the hysteria.

In their effort to reach every possible buyer, they themselves became the last remaining humans on what was already being called Terra. Thus, their evacuation was done with such urgency that many things deemed valuable to the family were left behind, most notably Milo.

Now, with all the vegetation and resources on Terra rapidly dying out, Milo’s days were numbered. The rats had already crafted their plan to bring him down below and make him their own. The humans were planning their rescue to take him up safely to higher ground. Only one question remained … Who would reach him first?

* * * * * * * * * *

Bonus Points will be awarded to all of you who made it to the end of this post!


Should I be calling Letterman about Milo?

Today’s Weight … 122.4

But today I went out for lunch plus I had pasta and gingerbread for dinner. I’m weak. Cross your fingers for tomorrow.

Don’t get it? Check this post.

My kids recently discovered that Milo has a unique physical characteristic, namely a single black whisker. Needless to say, I wasted no time jumping on the internet to see if it signified anything (because what else are you going to do on a Tuesday night, right?) and found nothing but a bunch of sad people chatting about their cats.

(No. … That is not the same thing as what I’m doing here. I’m blogging about cats. Duh!)

Anyway … finding nothing particularly interesting to explain this mind-boggling feline phenomenon, my daughter and I decided to come up with a few theories of our own. I hypothesized that the mysterious attribute could indicate that Milo hails from some ancient royal lineage, possibly even from another world. Or (and this one came from my girl between bathtub snorkel dives) maybe it helps him sense danger coming by the feeling he gets in that black whisker, like Harry Potter’s scar. Or perhaps it gives him the ability to read the minds of his caretakers. Or bend spoons.



In any event, we thought it was weird. Weird enough to merit an entire blog post.

What?? They can’t all be Shakespeare.


If I told you I had a picture (a high-resolution portrait) of my recently-evicted tumor, would you have any interest in seeing it?

At the moment … from the comforts of my bed … it seems like a great idea to me, but I’m not so sure I should trust my loopy, medicated judgment or (for that matter) that of the purple pillow pet or the cat, both of whom have started dispensing a lot of unsolicited advice in my direction. Lola (the pillow pet) is all ‘Don’t do it. It’s sensationalism. You will disgust your readers and they’ll think it’s inappropriate and insensitive.” Milo, on the other hand, has pressed me to put it up from the moment he first saw it. He keeps coming at me with “You said you were going to share everything. You were going to be totally honest, remember?”

Why am I not at all surprised that Lola and Milo are at odds here?

So, I’m putting it to a vote. It is, after all, what I do.


Prescription Warning: Objects on ceiling are not as mobile as they appear

Originally derived from the Greek word narkō meaning ‘I benumb,’ narcotics is defined a drug that soothes, relieves or lulls. In short, its job is to free me of pain and ease me into a profound sleep. There’s no mention in the definition about the benefit of all-over itchiness it provides. That’s just a little lagniappe.

Anyway, I’m still trucking along, taking my meds but trying to space out the gap between the pills a little more when I can. And, since I’m drifting in and out of lucidity, I’ve had a few amusing moments I’ll share for your enjoyment. Realize that when you laugh here, you’re actually laughing AT me.

(1) I was talking to my dad about my friend, Ashley, and mentioned something about when the two of us were pregnant last year. Of course, the word I was looking for was president … of the parents’ organization. Which would explain my dad’s very confused expression.

(2) When Dave brought my children to the ICU to see me that first night, I apparently was pretty concerned about a yellow folder I was convinced my daughter was hiding behind her back. He gently explained my mistake to me and decided to wrap up the visit before I claimed to see purple monkeys flying around the room.

(3) When drifting in and out of sleep with my mother at my bedside, I was suddenly very apologetic about spilling the syrup. And, no, there wasn’t any syrup or food to be found anywhere. We were just sitting quietly together resting and reading.

(4) On my first night back home, while still reeling from the potent stuff they administered intravenously, I took one of my prescription pills …. which together must have amounted to just a little bit too much. Fortunately, I was coherent enough to recognize that what I saw on my ceiling wasn’t real. Fan blades do not normally sway like sea anemone tentacles and recessed light fixtures do not normally change shape.

(5) My mom came to check on me in my bed not long after we first got home to find me resting peacefully with my eyes closed and petting what I thought was my sweet little cat who I had tucked under my arm. Yeah, it wasn’t the cat.


I’m thinking Milo’s going to be pretty upset when he learns I mistook this thing for him.

By the way … Thanks, Vanessa, for my awesome purple pillow pet. It’s become my ‘clutch-to-my-chest-when-I-have-to-cough’ pillow which the doctor and nurses recommended. I love him. I’m just not so sure Milo does.


Needed: Caption for this Picture

Milo recently introduced himself to Steve, our new school fair goldfish, and I snapped this picture.  Captions, anyone?


Oh, yeah. And also …

RIP Steve 10/14/11 – 10/22/11


Shall we play a game?

Okay, who’s thinking about War Games now? I can’t hear those words without hearing a monotone, oversynthesized robotic computer voice, too. Admit it. If you’re a child of the 80s, that’s where your brain went when you read this title. Matthew Broderick, the WOPR, “The only winning move is not to play” … you know what I mean.

Anyway, I’m home with my boy today who is as sick as a dog. At the moment, we’re attempting a little nap, which is likely only to result in 15 minutes of fitful rest. The kid’s never been much of a sleeper. And the cat, who I may bake into a pie very soon, is hellbent on keeping him awake right now. For those who don’t know, Milo is a very loud and needy cat.

So, with only 15 minutes or so of potential free (writing) time today, I thought it would be fun to play a goofy little game inspired by an idea from my friend, Chris.

We’ve all heard them. From hooters to headlights, there are a million names for boobs. And, in this very special month dedicated to breast health, let’s see if we can come up with a boob word for every letter of the alphabet. Using the comment boxes below, the first person would list an A-word. Then, the next person would list a B-word. And so on. Follow?

And here are the rules:

  1. You may only submit one answer per comment.
  2. You may play more than once but the same person can’t answer for two letters in a row.
  3. Funny is fabulous. Racy is fine. But so vulgar that I will start crying and run screaming to hide under my covers ’til morning is not. Be nice!

And I’ll start us off with the first boob word. A is for … (see comments below)