Cherry on the Cat Sundae

After making my big discovery of the vomiting kitten video yesterday, I emailed my cousin (Big T's wife) with a link so she—another crazy cat lady—could enjoy the hilarity of it as I had.

She responded shortly thereafter, pleased with the link and adding to my mounting cheer with her own cat story. Apparently, while cleaning out her underwear drawer recently, she discovered an old scented drawer sachet that was shaped like a bra.

Naturally, she thought, "I bet I could get this on the cat!"

She wrangled her chubby kitty into the mini brazier and admitted to saying aloud, "Oooh, you're wearing a kitty Wonder Bra, you went from an A to a C in just seconds!"

I hope people who don't know my cousin find that funny because I cracked up. And I found the picture comforting to look at after Mr. W IMed me today and told me that his filming schedule may get pushed out a week so we won't get to go on vacation at the end of my stay with him. So much for Berlin, Munich and Prague... At least I'll have cats in bras to enjoy.

Basket Case

My name is Melissa Hetherington and I am currently a basket case.

When I was in fourth grade, my sister (who is 10 years older than me) started a gift basket company with her best friend called Basket Case. I remember the floor of her bedroom being covered with silk flowers and coffee mugs and chocolates and baby gifts and anything else you could put into a themed, woven receptacle, wrapped with cellophane. I think she was in the midst of basket-making when I read Are You There God It's Me Margaret and magically started my period for one day...not to have it again until age 15 3/4...

Anyway, over the last few weeks, I feel like I have been assembling my own little basket—but it's full of unruly emotions and baubles of stress. I'm not entirely sure why I'm such a wreck right now...it's likely related to the transition coming up next week. It's an exciting transition, but a scary one too. So much to think about before I go. A fear of feeling lost once I get there. Nagging thoughts about how it will be living together. And other stuff I can't put my finger on. It's been making me feel vulnerable to the point of tears. Mr. W tries to help, but I think he may be grappling with a few feelings of uncertainty too. It doesn't help that he's been on location, so our interaction has been limited for the past two weeks.

Today as I tried to explain some of this to him, tearing up in my cubicle, I realized that the best thing to do was to turn to youtube. So I clicked my way over and did a search for "kittens." Here's the video I found that immediately made me feel better.

We Are All Clueless

Last night I saw Away We Go—a sweet film about a 30-something couple trying to navigate their way through pregnancy and impending parenthood. As the pair visits friends and family in different cities, trying to decide where to raise their little one, they discover the realities of their loved ones' situations...exposing the humanity and faults of everyone they visit.

I don't know if this story struck me because of my own conflicting feelings about parenthood or because I'm strangely emotional knowing that I'm leaving the country in 12 days. Whatever it was, it reminded me of the undeniable fact that no one really knows what they're doing in this life.

No one knows if the choices they're making are best. No one knows what is really going on in other people's lives. What hidden pains lurk or what quiet joys burst forth when no one else is looking. No one knows "the right way" to do things. There is no right way. No one knows what fate they'll be dealt. Or where their path will wind. We hold ourselves and others to such high standards—expecting to know or be told the right answers. But none of us really know.

And maybe the more we accept and recognize that we don't know, the kinder and more tolerant we will be of our own foibles and those of our peers.

Maybe admitting our own ignorance is what leads us to bliss.

Hair Surrogate

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it on here, but Mr. Wonderful has a pretty fantastic head of hair. It's thick and wavy and completely grabbable, with little curls that jut out in certain places. There it is below looking lovely in front of the Lourve.


Being away from this gorgeous mop for the last several months has been difficult. I've tapped my fingers against my computer screen, tracing them along his hairline as we chat on Skype. I've had dreams about touching it. And lately, I've been so desperate that I find myself cheating on it.

See, I've been watching Entourage on Netflix over the past few weeks, and in addition to being a hysterical show (probably particularly to me because I live near Hollywood) its main cast member has one of the best sets of locks I've ever laid eyes on. I have nearly had to sit on my hands during certain episodes because it is so tempting to claw at Adrian Grenier's hair on the TV screen.


My friend Brookem always features notable HOHs (Head of Hair) on her blog. I hope she has included Adrian because he deserves major hair props.

Eau d'Soy Milk

Remember that time I tried to wear multiple necklaces to work and they put me in a choke-hold in my bathroom?

Well apparently the necklace gods are conspiring against me again today...

This morning, my purple puckered shirt looked a little sparse in the mirror, so I selected a long silver chain with smokey grey elliptical beads to dress it up a bit. I made the necklace myself a few years ago, and I think it's pretty cute. I believe it has even earned a few compliments in the past.

Anywhoo, I went down to our free coffee bar this morning and got myself a nice vanilla soy latte in my big company mug, and was all smiles and sunshine as I returned to my desk with it. But as I lowered myself into my chair, my necklace lowered itself into my mug, then jumped back out like a cat in a bathtub, flinging frothy milk all over the front of my shirt, pants and part of my desk.

I'm not sure if soy milk emanates the same lovely sour smell that cow milk does when it's been out in the warm air too long. I suppose I'll find out by the end of the day...

Digging in the Dad Archives

I spent Father’s Day with all the important men in my life (sans Mr. W of course), enjoying a lovely breakfast with my dad and brother-in-law, then having dinner with my brother.

During breakfast, the family broke into funny stories from the past, and when my mom pulled out this gem for my cousins, I knew I had to post it.

About ten or twelve years ago, my parents went to visit some friends in Arizona. The guest room they stayed in had no windows, which wasn’t a problem for my claustrophobic mother, but turned into an issue for my dad…

The two of them went to bed, I’m sure at an early hour, and were sleeping peacefully when suddenly my dad woke up. He blinked. Nothing. He held his hand out in front of him. Nothing. He became nervous and shot up in bed.

“Are you blind?!” he whisper-shrieked to my sleeping mom—apparently thinking maybe if he had gone blind in his sleep, she had too.

“What?”

“Are you blind? I think I’ve gone blind! I'm BLIND!”

Rather than being concerned about my father’s sudden lack of eyesight, my mother immediately began worrying about how they would get home from Arizona—because she doesn’t drive on the freeway.

Thinking quick, likely due to the panic of potential freeway driving, she said, “Did you try turning on the light?”

My dad fumbled for the light switch.

And suddenly HE COULD SEE AGAIN.

My mom says he was all shaky and sweaty, sitting on the edge of the bed in his tightie whites. Apparently he forgot that if you sleep in a room with no windows, there is a high likelihood that it will get very, very dark in the room…

He spent the rest of the evening clicking on a flashlight next to his pillow. And we bought him Braille Christmas cards that year.

Just another Hetherington family favorite story…

Had my brother-in-law known what we were up to last night, he probably would have wished he were suffering from Arizona-onset blindness, too. After a few margaritas and way too much giggling with the cousins, my sister, nieces and I got our hands on a Depends undergarment and decided to do a sleeping photo shoot with my bro-in-law.

No, we didn’t strip him down and put in on him… Instead, I shimmied out of my True Religions and into the diaper and positioned my Pampery butt near his sleeping face while my sister snapped away with the digital camera. I’ve made my sister promise not to post the pictures on Facebook. We’ll see if she wants to ruin my life or not…

Thinking Twice Before I Put It In My Mouth

For all you dirty pervs out there who thought this was going to be a naughty post, it’s not. It’s about food. More specifically, it’s about a documentary I saw last weekend called Food, Inc.

The movie addresses issues ranging from animal cloning to big business farming to the poor living conditions some livestock endures. All of those issues are rattling to the psyche, but the stuff I found most upsetting is how the food we eat is making America sick.

Because the government subsidizes corn, there are “corn-derived” products in almost every processed food we eat. And it’s fed to animals. Even the cows who are supposed to eat grass, and fish who are supposed to eat…I don’t know what…bugs? Well cows and chickens and pigs and fish are eating corn now. And you know what corn breaks down to in our bodies? Sugar.

A different film I watched recently, called King Corn, asserted that a serving of corn-fed beef has 9 grams of fat in it, whereas a serving of grass-fed beef has only 1.5. Hello growing obesity rate in this country!

With the ratio of people with Type II Diabetes now at 1 in 3 (one in two for certain minority groups) can we really afford to have government subsidizing and “efficient feed spending” contributing to our decline in overall health?

And if people are saving money by buying corn-fed burgers, (corn oil) fried potatoes, and (high fructose corn syrup) soda off the dollar menu at McDonald’s, aren’t they potentially paying that right back in medication costs when they fall victim to high cholesterol and heart disease?

The other wildly upsetting thing about this whole factory-tized farming issue is that cramped living conditions and mass "production” of meats contribute to the spread of bacteria like E.coli. If you have hundreds of cows standing in a small corral in their own poo, don’t you think some of that poo could make it’s way into the slaughterhouse? Uh yeah, check the papers every year for outbreak headlines.

My point in sharing all this is that if we know what’s going on and we don’t like it, we can change it. If all of us are grossed out and switch to organic meat and veggies, the market will follow. Look at the auto industry—everyone’s coming out with hybrids because people started demanding them.

I’m not going to stop eating salami and I’m not going to boycott salad dressing with corn syrup in it. But I can tell you I’m checking a heck of a lot more labels, eating a lot more organic products, and avoiding all the packaged crap that could make me the next person dependent on insulin.

If these issues interest you, give the Food, Inc. website a looksie. There’s all sorts of stuff there to whet your appetite for change.