Saturday, July 3, 2010

Dallas does...feline diabetes.

I'm not sure anyone ever wakes up with the intention of falling asleep again 4 hours later, but sure enough, morning cat naps were the order of the day for the Dallas family.
Woke up early for a Saturday, inspired by a friend's cat who needed 7 units of human insulin to have enough energy to make its daily jump to the couch. Rode my bike to the house, epic twenty-year-old that I am. Questioned my ability once again to give 7 units of insulin to said cat- a notion I pushed aside quickly when I remembered that as a high school valedictorian, I should feel qualified to perform any medical procedure within the tri-county area. Having 'shot the cat', as I so lovingly call my temporary chore, I set off for home, and with a quick wave to my neighbor on the way into the cul-de-sac, flew up the driveway and into the Midwest paradise that is the Dallas household.
Mother dearest was awaiting her ride for a morning trip out of town, while dad and buddy, our resident beard hound, relaxed in the front room.
My parents, 50-somethings of small town beginnings, are kind enough to humor my ramblings, and on this particular morning they pretended not to notice as I hid the poptart I had swiped from my house-sitting locale. Mom was off in a flash and I made dad an omelet to celebrate the beautiful morning while watching Serena Williams hoist her fourth Wimby trophy.
Ate breakfast myself watching a replay of Nadal's Friday match and reading the latest trashy novel my friend gave me to enjoy. I also flipped to BET for a marathon of one of the world's strangest sitcoms, and, per my usual milky whiteness, felt like I should change the channel for not being hip enough.
After reading sex scenes to the point of being dizzy with scandal, I wandered back into the front room to visit dad and Buddydog, only to find both asleep. Dad soon perked up for his 1:00 tee time just as I was slipping off into the unconscious I had left behind 4 hours before.
Alive with the fervor of a second chance at sleep, my afternoon slipped away in the glory of terrorizing Buddy dog at the pool and attempting to get tan without a repeat of the sun poisoning incident of June.
Dinner for the Dallas family meant Steak 'n' Shake of course, and tonight offered an extraordinary amount of proprietors for miss momma and I to people watch. Dad, unfortunate enough to be facing the wall, spent his whole meal questioning how he ended up eating with two women who'd rather wonder about the horror of the lives of the three young children with a mean-faced dad then discuss his par on hole 3 or the latest weather report.
After dinner meant a super businesslike phone call while I made holiday appropriate fruit pizza cookies, as my parents went off to a party. Yes, you read that right. The 20-year-old was at home giving shots to a cat, walking a dog, and baking, while her parents were out meetin' and greetin'. Lincoln, Illinois does funny things to a girl's social life.
So now the night is winding up with me starting a blog and contemplating how guilty I'll feel about those hand fulls of marshmallows I scarfed if I skip my Jillian Michael butt-kicking for the night. And to think the junk in my trunk was actually starting to get unpacked...

Your thought of the day comes to you from my wonderful brotherman:
"Okay, not drunk or on drugs or whatever, have you ever thought to yourself how awesome music is? Like when you hear that special song at just the right moment?"

Peace, love, and puppy dogs.

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