Last night I picked up our mail and was pleasantly surprised to see an envelope from the Department of State. Must be my new passport, right? After an evil post office woman, four hours, a $110 check, and yelling obscenities in the privacy of my car about the inefficiency of government run businesses, I was actually receiving my passport in a timely fashion. I nearly felt guilty for my previous post (see Passport Renewal), but then I opened the thick, manila envelope. New passport? Nope. It was my old passport, all of my filled out paperwork, and a fresh white letter telling me that my passport renewal had been denied. I looked in the envelope for the returned check. No luck; the bastards took my money anyway…and, on top of it all, they had the audacity to tell me in that my check amount was incorrect. I was supposed to send $135 dollars instead of $110 dollars. Super. So why had it been denied? Apparently I had already applied for a passport in 2003.
#$%*@#?! (translation: I am a little frustrated) because I sent them my old passport, marriage license, social security number, soul, and a unicorn friend to vouch for me…and they still turned me down (not to mention my unicorn had to be overnighted which was expensive).
Luckily, my husband’s passport is up to date, so he just needs to renew his green card (he’s from outer space!!!). Isn’t it strange how they call non-citizens aliens? Every time I see his “legal alien” card I envision a purple, bug-eyed creature with antennae and sticky fingers like E.T., not a cute englishman.
And speaking of aliens…Dragon (samwise gamgee) has been mewing all morning and staring at the ceiling as though a demon has infiltrated our apartment. I think it may have something to do with the fact that we removed the AC unit from our bedroom window. This is rather catastrophic (no pun intended) for a cat like Dragon. She lives in our apartment, every second of every day, and isn’t allowed outside (for reasons I think you may be able to guess…she gets lost in open spaces, remember?). There was a large, grey object that made loud noises and now there isn’t (translation: demons are in the apartment and she must alarm everyone to their presence). I also made the mistake of leaving the closet under the stairs (mordor) slightly ajar. Frodo went inside (naturally, because he’s got to throw that ring into the fires of mount doom already!) and when Dragon approached the dark, menacingly entrance…she panicked. She could hear the crinkling of bags (translation: roar of mount doom’s inferno), and feared for Frodo’s life, so she pooped outside the litter box and has been running around the apartment like a maniac for the last ten minutes.
Needless to say, I’ve been slightly distracted and unable to edit my novel very much this morning. Solution? A raw smoothie to energize my spirits (and an excuse to turn on the blender and further confuse Dragon). Raw food used to scare me because I love cooked, hot, cozy food, and whenever I thought of the word raw I envisioned cold, gazpacho soup, goosebumps, a food dehydrator, and an unsatisfied stomach. But you know what? Raw food is pretty r-awesome. Yup, I just said rawesome…deal with it, haters.
Blueberry bliss smoothie
1 large banana, peel removed
1/2 cup frozen or fresh blueberries
1 cup soy milk (I use Edensoy Extra Original) or non-dairy milk of your choice
A few pinches of ground cinnamon
3-4 ice cubes
**For a protein boost, I add a small scoop of hemp protein powder (I use Living Harvest Organic Hemp Protein…nothing but cold milled hemp!)
In a high speed blender, combine all ingredients and blend until smooth. Serve to two sluggish unicorns without passports.
So my parent’s have this cat named Daisy. She was born during the Industrial Revolution and has been known by many names including Fazer, Piss-wagon, Cro-magnon, and most recently, The Yowler. She’s hyper thyroid (translation: perpetually starving, but doesn’t like the new cat food…ever) and has feline dementia (translation: gets lost in open spaces & pees any damn place she wants to). She’s old and she’s earned it, I suppose, but the trouble is, whenever we have guests over, they wake up in the middle of the night nearly frightened to death upon hearing Daisy’s yowling. The noise she makes is so unearthly that you would swear it was coming from some ghost in the night, some extraterrestrial terror…certainly not from a five pound tabby who’s roaming the halls.
You turn the light on and wipe the sweat from your forehead, calming yourself down as you remember what they told you about the cat: “don’t be alarmed if you hear strange noises at night…it’s just the cat”. Feeling better, you switch the light out and began to drift off into dreamland upon a unicorn, when suddenly, that horrible noise “woooowyaaaaooowww” is right beside you! You jump out of bed, grasping a pillow between your arms that says “cats rule”, and look down with trepidation at the ball of fur next to your bed. It’s Daisy of course, but as it’s 3am, she’s taken on a whole new shape, and you begin to wonder if she’s really just a cat or a phantom demon from the underworld who’s come to get you. Needless to say, after disturbing nightmares involving a deranged “puss in boots” character who’s trying to kill you with a catnip toy shaped like a fish, you stumble down to the kitchen and find your enemy passed out like a kitten on top of the stove. But you’re not convinced of her innocence (not to mention alarmed by the fact that the cat is napping on the stovetop. My mom tells you that she just loves warm places and not to be scared of her. Besides, she adds, she was about to take Daisy to the vet. Sick? you ask. “No, no…we’re just going on vacation”.
Now before you think, “gosh, this poor ancient cat has to be subjected to a cage and torn from her house…what horrible people”, let me enlighten you. The place Daisy goes to is a cat exclusive veterinary hospital complete with white columns, a fish tank, and new age music. For the bargain price of $38 dollars per day, Daisy gets to reside in a “cat condo”. Yup, a floor to ceiling, multiple floored mecca with choice of views. “Does Daisy prefer a view of the road or a view of the woods?” a vet tech asks her. My mom considers the question and replies, “the woods, please”.
I told my husband about Daisy’s luxe accommodations, and after a brief silence, he realized that his upcoming golf trip to Vegas was going to be cheaper than Daisy’s stay at the cat condos. What can I say? The cat has style.