On Aging

I am sitting on the couch with a big, soft and cuddly silver tabby draped lovingly across my lap.  He is purring like the engine of a luxury car and he occasionally flares and kneads his claws in a state of contented bliss.  I take a sip of my warm, rich French Roast coffee and think "Holy shit! I better call the police! Someone has replaced my cat, body snatchers style and put in a replicant. "

To know Spike the Hotness Monster is to know the true independence of a cat.  The idiosyncratic, aloof behavior, the mousing like a madman,  the obsessive need for privacy.  Yes.  Privacy.  Do you know that in the 14 years that we have had this cat, I have seen him do his catly business exactly once. I can't say the same for my kids or my dog.

 As an aside, I can see why he would be protective of his technique.  Let me lay it out for you:

• First he digs a hole.
• Then he sticks his head in the hole to see if it is big enough.
• He makes adjustments to the hole (i believe he is looking for a 2X diameter of his head here).
• He carefully positions himself on the ledge of the hole, somewhat like Greg Louganis would set for a high dive.
• He does his thing
• He buries it with obsessive perfection, almost daring you to ever find the spot again. 
• He saunters away and assumes nap position in a sunny spot.  Genius, really.

But in all the years that we have filled his bowl and let him in and out of the house, he has never been what you would call "cuddly".  When I personify him and imagine what his human form would be, I usually come up with a vision of a chain smoking European playboy in a slim fitting suit with a skinny black tie who never takes off his sunglasses and drives around in impossibly expensive sports car and never works, yet seems to always have a lot of money.  The European playboy has become my lap cat.

Over the past year we have seen a change in Spike.  The once lush and silvery grey coat now looks raggedy.    He often sits on a kitchen chair and stares at the ceiling, seemingly looking at something that isn't there until he falls asleep sitting up.  But most alarmingly of all, he seems to always want lovin'.  The only explanation that I can come to for this behavior is that he is in his twilight years.

I know that of all the domestic pets, cats are usually graced with the longest lifespan, so its not like I think we need to start singing "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" any time soon.   But I do believe that the Hotness Monster has gone into retirement and in his head and he is reclining poolside in the Riviera in a speedo that only he could pull off, flirting with the waitress that brings his refreshments and never taking off his sunglasses.  And that's OK.

On the kitchen chair where he ponders the universe

Up close and personal

Biga the Mother Sponge

I got up at the ass crack of dawn today.  Not because I wanted to, I just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep.  Maybe it was excitement over what was growing in my kitchen.  I was growing a sponge.

A sponge is a starter that is used in bread baking.  The Italians call it a biga, which, of course is much nicer than sponge because everything sounds better in Italian.   Interestingly enough, it is also called a mother sponge.  This got me thinking about how much bread baking and motherhood have in common.

Baking bread requires time and care, kneading and shaping, rising and proofing.  There are a lot of steps and it is definitely a learn as you go process.  With a little luck and a lot of tending to, you will end up with something wonderful that was worth all the labor and sweat.

I have never fancied myself a particularly skillful baker when it came to yeast doughs nor a very traditional mother when it came to child rearing.  Yet, as my loaves proof and my kids grow, I have found that I am happy with the results that I am getting.  I guess everything gets better with practice and while I might have given more thought to my failures, upon reflection, there are many successes to celebrate.

I hope all of you take the time today to appreciate what the fruits of your labor and to honor your moms.  May your little honey buns treat you well.

XO -Diary

P.S. If you are interested in a pretty easy and reliable Semolina Bread Recipe (per the pics below), go here:
http://food.eagletribune.com/recipe-video/Homemade-Semolina-Bread.html

The Mother Sponge

The Dough Ball (pre-rise)

 First Rise

 Shaped Loaf After the Second Rise

All things considered, a pretty respectable result

Cattoman

I bought an ottoman .  Not just an average ottoman, but a kicky lime green ottoman with a floral pattern.  It sits right in the front entrance hall.  As the first thing I see when I walk I the door, it is there to make me happy with its jaunty punch of color.  It replaces an old white wood, white fabric bench that was both dated and dingy thanks to  a constant film of cat hair.  I would vacuum the bench weekly, only to have the gray haze of cat hair  return in a couple of days.  I got tired of looking at it and even more tired of cleaning it, so I got a new one. I got it for me, to make me happy when I walk in the door.  However, not all family members agree who this is for. . .


Are you getting the vibe of ownership and entitlement from him?  It seems to say "F you and your silly little tufted bench. This bitch is mine and you are powerless to do anything about it."

 He forgets that he's old and that I am much bigger than him.  And I forget what a soft spot I have in my heart for his hairy and very crotchety old self.   He wins.  As usual.

Like a bad penny. . .

Hello there!  Some of you may remember me.  I used to go by the handle "Diary of a Mad Bathroom".

A little over a year ago, I was sailing through some rather choppy waters, personally and professionally.  I did not have the focus, time or sense of humor left to keep my blog going, so I folded up my tent and I retreated.

The funny thing was, I did not retreat for long.  The siren call of blogging was singing my name from a distant shore.  Unfortunately at that time, I had so much bitterness and stress, that I thought I needed to change my message and provide an outlet for others that were going through similar experiences.  This bitterness gave birth to my first ill-conceived attempt at blog re-entry:

The Only Water Cooler in Hell

Maybe it wasn't entirely ill conceived.  There are certainly plenty of people that have had miserable work experiences, who need a place to rant about it. I think I just burnt out fast because I was working from a place of negativity. Oh, and I was supposedly running it anonymously. Surprise! It's me (like you didn't know).

That didn't last very long.

Then I decided that I would start a food related blog.

The Pedestrian Palate

Over the years I had posted plenty of pictures and stories about my cooking and baking exploits on Diary of a Mad Bathroom.   So why not a food blog?  But again, the single threaded topic burnt me out quickly because there is so much more that I have to say than "hey I just baked some yummy brownies". Blech. Boring.

So here I am, back like a bad penny, hoping to tap back into all that I loved about blogging.  I can't wait to see what the blogging community has to offer, who's still around and who suffered from a similar identity crisis to mine.  Just this one post and I already feel better.   I hope the PTA didn't exhale, because I am back in the saddle and ready to start targeting their most heinous, bitchy and judgmental members. Warning - A Vera Bradley Bag and a luxury SUV is the same as a target to me.  Duck bitches!

Time to Say Goodbye

Hey there everyone, it's your old pal Diary here to admit defeat.  Over the past few months I haven't posted much, read many blogs or tweeted worth a shit.  Things are just too crazy.  So I feel that it's best to fold up camp for this particular little blog concern and think about what might be ahead in the future.

It's not that I don't love to blog, love the community and of course, love to have an outlet through which I can call people out on their ridiculous shit. I certainly do love every minute of that.  However, my life is very full at the moment with a mix of things really good and not so good and this mix of stuff is keeping me occupied.  There is no cause for alarm or concern.  Let's just say that busy does not even begin to describe it.

Before I go, I would like to say a word of love to some of the bloggers that I have discovered on this journey that made a positive impression on me and kept me around for as long as I was.  There are too many to mention individually, but these were among my regular reads.  If you haven't checked them out, you must.  I am too lazy/tired to link to them, but a google search works just as well:


Lin at Duck and Wheel with String
Allison at 400 Wake Ups
The Empress at Good Day Regular People
Wendi Aarons
Smacksy
Surfer Wife
Amy at Goodbyte 20's Hello Botox
Mom of the Perpetually Grounded
Sara Spelled Without an H

That is just a small portion of the list of people that I have enjoyed reading and if your name isn't on the list, know this; if I ever visited  your site and left a comment, I have enjoyed your blog and I appreciate your writing.

So what's next for me?  Other than donning a ninja outfit and running night maneuvers on the PTA,  I am not really sure.  Things have really picked up for my son's band and driving them to shows and going to work will continue to take up a lot of my time.  I really do enjoy being pseudo-roadie, I'm thinking about growing a beard and getting a tattoo of a flaming skull on my forearm, to really embrace the look.

In my heart, I don't believe that this is the end of blogging for me, rather it is more of a new beginning.  There are many possible future concepts out there for me, I just have to get through the craziness of the next couple of months before I reinvent myself.  Perhaps I will lose my mask and come out from behind the shadows of anonymous blogging or maybe I will stay anonymous and tell stories about the unbelievable people that I encounter in corporate America (I swear that one guy is skinning people and wearing their pelts at night).  Whatever it may be, I will be sure to reach out to all of you that have had such a positive impact on me to let you know that I am back.

Hugs, Kisses and Hatred for the PTA.
Your Girl Diary

New Year, New Me. . . not really

Photo Credit: I snatched this bitch from jenbutneverjenn.com. I have no idea where she snatched it from

Hello.  Have you met me? I'm DG at Diary and I am not a "mommy blogger".  I have spent the last three years tippity typing on this keypad, seeking to illustrate how I hate the PTA, would rather be drawn and quartered than carry a Vera Bradley Bag and shoot neighborhood parents with a BB gun when they walk their dogs (OK, the third part is a lie, but some of those bitches make it into my darker day dreams). So why in the name of evil Mother Nature would ANYONE solicit me to hawk their scrapbooking product?

After a long vacation away from my blog, I returned to find an e-mail from some chick that "absolutely loves" my blog and wants to advertise her product on it.  All I can think is, does she love it for my desire to put truck nutz on my Uncle's pick up or for spewing rabid hate about the PTA?  I have never expressed an interest in scrapbooking, wearing sweatpants with words on the ass or any other mommy cliche (apologies if you are sitting on the word PINK as you read this). Not  to say that that those things are bad, they just are not me.

Now, while I may not be a Mommy Blogger, I am most definitely a woman, and what does a woman do when someone professes their love for her?  She tests that love, of course.  So being that this woman has put her love for my blog in writing, I am going to make sure that she really knows what she loves.

This post today is a warning shot of sorts, because in the coming weeks, I am going to go ahead and run her promotion (if she writes back and hasn't figured out her marketing error as of yet).   I don't want you all to think that I have gone soft or commercial or "mommy" once you see me hawking her patchwork rainbow on my blog.  It is more to see if they really pay attention to who they solicit.

Part of this process will be to give away some scrapbooking software, so I will be running a contest.  PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE do not let my bitter words stop you from entering to win the software, wearing sweats or joining the PTA.  These things are not for me, but I do not judge if they are for you. . .unless you live within my school district, then I'm Judge effing Judy.

Legend of the Invisible Blogger

For those of you that may have stopped by over the past month or so, you might have noticed that I'm not here.   You also may have noticed that I have not been around to your blogs either.   I just want you to know that there is no cause for alarm, I am indeed still breathing air and complaining bitterly about the PTA. . .I'm just not doing it on my blog.  

There are a host of reasons for my recent absence and many of them are quite positive.  For one thing, I took another trip to Italy.   For those of you that were reading here last year, you know that I took my first trip in August of '10 and like a jonesin junkie, I had to get back for another fix.   Another thing that has been taking up my time and brain cells was the planning of a pretty big Halloween Party.  Not just any Halloween Party, but an 80's Prom themed Halloween Party.  Needless to say, that was a hell of a good time and if I were not an anonymous blogger, I'd post pictures of myself dressed as Boy George, dancing my face off. Sorry. No can do.  I have a PTA to dis and my mug (although coated with a Tammy Faye Bakeresque coating of war paint) must remain hidden.

There is plenty more at hand, but that's all I'm sharing for now, so I'm checking in and checking out. Not for good, mind you, but for a little while.  I will miss you while I hiatus, but like that other 80's robot, the Terminator, I'll be back (and that's a promise, not a threat).