Genetic Drama Queen

I wish I could say that I am 100% drama-free, I really do. I've always wanted to be one of those girls who just never has a dramatic moment. But the truth is that I have an undeniable inner drama queen. Now, luckily, she stays in hiding most of the time but every once in a while she comes out and reveals herself in a big way . . .

Like when I had to clean my Beta fish's tank for the first time. I had gotten this fish for my birthday and he lived in a pitcher of water on my bar. When I could no longer see him through the haze that had built up in the water, I thought it might be time to clean his little tank out. But this petrified me to no end. I was convinced that he was going to jump out of the tank and attack my neck - like a scene right out of some bad B movie. And I knew it was an irrational fear but I just couldn't help it - I was paralyzed with fear. So I called my friend Tracy and made her stay on the phone with me while I cleaned the tank . . . you know - in case she needed to call 911 to help get little Finnegan off of my jugular. ANYWAY, I cleaned the tank but screamed LITERALLY every 2 minutes and Tracy stayed on the phone with me the entire time, laughing hysterically at me. But, hey, she can laugh all she wants - those fish are SCARY . . .

Or there's the time that my mom and sisters and I were all in the living room and my mom kept asking me to do stuff for her, even though my sisters were sitting right there, too . . . and, in some cases, they were in a more convenient position to do whatever task was being requested. I was getting so frustrated because CLEARLY I was being picked on because I was the middle child - am I right, middle children?? Are you with me on this one?? ANYWAY, at one point my mom asked me to turn the air up even though Tammy was RIGHT next to the thermostat and I was clear across the room. Well, that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I stood up and, in my best stage voice, yelled: "Catherine, get me some water! Catherine, get me a blanket! Catherine, turn the air up! THROW ANOTHER LOG ON THE FIRE, CINDERELLA!!" Dramatic? Yes. But, seriously . . . Tammy was RIGHT THERE.

Look - I really do wish I weren't so dramatic at times. But I realized a long time ago that, as much as I'd like to get rid of my inner drama queen, I can't. Because it's genetic. Case in point . . .

My mom used to bring us breakfast in bed on cold mornings when we were in school because she didn't want us to have to come downstairs and freeze are tootsies off - yes, she IS the greatest mom EVER. Well one morning, after I had finished my cereal and and was finished getting ready for school, I started down the stairs with my cereal bowl in hand, being careful to not slosh the left-over milk all over the place. But, unfortunately, when I was about halfway down the stairs I slipped. Well, actually, "slipped" sounds a little too dainty. What really happened is that my feet flew out from under me, I flew up in the air, my cereal bowl flew out of my hands, I came crashing down onto the stairs, and my cereal bowl crashed against the wall on the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Milk and Cinnamon Toast Crunch bits began dripping down the wall and, before I even had time to assess myself for injuries, my mom came running over to the stairs screaming hysterically because she thought that the milk and cereal on the wall were my brains.

My brains . . . seriously.

I was so dumbfounded at her reaction that I just looked at her with a confused expression and, with as much compassion as I could muster, I asked "HOW DOES CINNAMON TOAST CRUNCH EVEN REMOTELY LOOK LIKE BRAINS??"

Now, in an effort to cover up the fact that she mistook cereal for brains, she tries to tell everyone that it was oatmeal on the wall. But don't believe her . . .

And then there was the time when I came home from school and found a water leak in the house that my mom had somehow missed. I can easily see how she could have missed it, what with the huge water spot on the ceiling downstairs and the water standing on a downstairs cabinet. Once I pointed it out to her, she completely lost her head. She had us all go outside because she was convinced that the house was going to blow up . . . because . . . well . . . I guess because . . . no - I still don't know why she thought a water leak would lead to an exploding house. But she did. And the best part was that she kept having ME go inside to call my dad or the plumber . . . whiiiiiiiiiiiile she stood outside, safely distancing HERSELF from the blast zone.

But, hey - at least she brought us breakfast in bed, right??

The reason I'm writing about all this tonight is that I saw my mom's inner drama queen again last night. We were at my sister Tammy's, having a lovely dinner that my niece Emma prepared for us and my mom was telling us that one of her nails had broken. She was really hoping to get it repaired at her nail place the next day but she needed to protect it in the meantime so that the break didn't get any worse. Her solution for a slightly broken nail?


Yep - I come by my dramatic streak honestly, don't you think?

Happy Columbus Day!!!

Thank goodness for Christopher Columbus, riiiiiiiiiight? I'm so glad that he discovered America so that I could one day be born here AND, as an added bonus, get a day off of work. I sure do love that guy! But, you know what? If I'm being totally honest with y'all, I'd have to admit that sometimes I get a little jealous that he gets all these accolades and has places named after him and has his own holiday and blah blah blah. I mean, it's not like he's the ONLY one who has discovered things. I've discovered a lot of cool things in my life but you don't see Catchy Day on your calendar, do you?

And I don't think that's fair.

Sure - it's true that I have not discovered a new country but that doesn't mean that my discoveries aren't equally important to mankind . . .

For instance, I recently had a midnight snack moment that changed my life. I was watching TV late at night and suddenly started craving something sweet and salty. I rummaged around in my pantry but all I could find was a bag of pretzels. I ate a few pretzels but they just weren't cutting it for me - I needed a sweet element. So I opened the freezer and saw a pint of Dulce de Leche ice cream that someone had brought over. I opened up the pint and decided to use a pretzel as my spoon. That's when the life-altering moment occurred for me - the Earth stopped spinning, a light shone upon me and the hallelujah chorus rang out in my kitchen. Dulce de Leche ice cream and pretzels together?? I bet Christopher Columbus never thought of THAT.

"Catherine, a mind-blowing snack creation does not compete with the discovery of the Americas," you say. Fine. But that's not the only discovery that I have made in my lifetime - I also discovered that if I hold my elbows out in JUST the right position in my car, I can get the A/C to blow right up the sleeves of my shirt so that my whole shirt billows out and cools me down on a hot day. That was a HUGE discovery, especially for someone who has to endure summers in Houston. And there are days in July when I'm driving down the highway with my elbows out and my shirt billowing around me that I think "I bet this is how Christopher Columbus felt when he spotted land."

But I think my biggest discovery was an alternative use for ponytail holders. I have short hair so I never need to use them for their actual intended purpose but that hasn't stopped me from using them. Oh no, my friends - I have found a new use for them: to help button your jeans when you've had too many pretzels and dulce de leche ice cream.

Don't judge me.

Seriously - it's a beautiful thing. Once you loop the ponytail holder into the buttonhole, you can get another good inch to an inch and a half in the waist of your jeans. And you'd be surprised how often this comes in handy. Jeans shrunk too much in the dryer? No prob - here's a ponytail holder. Post-Thanksgiving dinner belly bulge? Take your ponytail down and put that holder to good use, girl. It's the most amazing discovery of my lifetime. Granted, it's not the same as discovering a new unsettled land, but it could have helped the Indians eradicate the muffin top.

And, still - no holiday named after ME??

What a rip off.

Define "older" . . .

My sister Tammy recently decided to start taking piano lessons. It's something that she's always wanted to do so, since her kids are learning different musical instruments, she figured she'd jump in there with them and learn the piano. Since she's an adult, she was told to buy a book geared toward older beginners. In fact, it even says that on the cover . . .


So she was pretty excited to get started with her new OLDER BEGINNERS piano book. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand then she saw her first assignment . . .

So she borrowed crayons from her kids and completed her first big girl piano assignment. She thought it seemed a bit strange to have such a juvenile assignment but she figured that the rest of the book would be a little more geared to her age. So she turned the page to do her second assignment . . .


And her third . . .


I don't know what's funnier - the fact that these assignments are in her Older Beginners book or the fact that she's actually DOING them . . . crayons and all. That's just hilarious to me. But what's even more hilarious is that when I asked her about why she's actually doing these little assignments, she said: "Well, I have to get my sticker!"

Yes you do, Tammy. Yes you do!

Save me!!

I told you all last week about how I've decided to venture out into the world of online dating. And I have to tell you that it's a funny little world. I mean, if you were to meet a single guy at, say, a bar or the gym or the grocery store or a wedding or a funeral (don't judge me), you would expect to have some nice small talk with him, some fun flirting, and you'd size each other up and figure out if you're interested. That's how it's supposed to be. That's the natural order of things.

But, unfortunately, that's not how it works for most people online.

What I'm finding is that many of the guys out there jump right past that initial phase of small talk and flirting and they go straight to their best "We were destined for each other" commercial. It's so strange. In fact, I got an email the other day from a guy who did that:

"I'm definitely ready to commit into a loving lifelong relahionship with a beautiful educated woman like yourself. The times of mounting a horse to go find one and fighting windmills are no more there! I know i will be a great partner. So, let me be the one to have the privilidge to your friendship and love."

Okay, let me break this down for you . . .

1. You should never use the word "mounting" in any initial communication on a dating website.
2. I can't be in a relationship with anyone who doesn't know how to SPELL relationship. Or privilege.
3. Why is he already asking for my love? He doesn't know anything about me. He's seen my picture and read a few sentences about me - does he really have enough information to make that determination. I mean, don't get me wrong - I'm freakin' AWESOME. (Seriously . . . have you SEEN my butt?) But, STILL - he doesn't know that. (Note to self: put a picture of my butt on my online profile . . .)
4. If I guy walked up to me at the gym and said that to me as his opening introduction, I think I'd ask security to escort me to my car.
5. SAVE ME!!!

For the first time in my life, the idea of hanging out at a bar to meet a guy is sounding appealing. I'm sure I could find someone THERE who could earn the privilidge to my love and friendship . . .

Shoot me.

Nora: The Owner's Manual (Part Three)

So I wrote a while ago about how I've decided to rent my mom out for parties. I must say that the idea has been met with much enthusiasm from you all - several of you have already approached me about pricing and scheduling. I think my sisters and I will be able to retire off of this venture! But before I can rent her out, I have to finish compiling my list of instructions on what to expect and how to handle certain situations that might arise with my mom. So, to supplement the FIRST and SECOND parts of the Nora Owner's Manual, here are a few more instructions for you to keep in mind when you rent my mom:


Death and Diabetes
These are my mom's two favorite subjects and she will always bring the conversation around to one of these two topics. And she can do it seamlessly, regardless of the original topic . . . I have no idea how she does it. It's like her spiritual gift. Talking about bowling? No problem - she'll have a story about how someone was killed at the bowling alley near our house. Talking about ice cream? No problem - she'll tell you how it makes her blood sugar spike. Talking about how nice the weather is? She can turn that into a story about a murder suicide before you even know what hit you. And if you give her an opportunity to talk about someone who DIED from DIABETES, that's the ultimate achievement for her. By the time she leaves your party, you'll know about every tragic death that has occurred within a 100 mile radius of your home. But don't worry - you can always read the obituaries to cheer yourself up . . .


Driving
If you and my mom really hit it off, she might start to feel like you are like one of the family. In that case, you might get calls from her occasionally while she's out driving around. These usually involve some type of navigational question. For instance, my mom goes to Chick-Fil-A at least once a week. It's less than 5 miles from her house in a shopping center but, for some reason, she can never remember how to get there. This led to lots of calls like this:

Me: Hey, mamasita!
Mom: Hey, Catchy! I need your help.
Me: Okay - what's up?
Mom: Well, I'm trying to find Chick-Fil-A and I have no idea where it is in relation to where I am.
Me: Okay - well, where are you now?
Mom: I'm in the World Market parking lot.
Me: World Market?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Okay. Get out of your car.
Mom: Get out of my car?
Me: Yep.
Mom: Okaaaaaay. [pause] Okay - I'm out.
Me: Are you facing World Market?
Mom: Yep.
Me: Okay - turn around.
Mom: Okaaaaaay . . .
Me: Do you see Chick-Fil-A?
Mom: Oh my goodness! There it is! It's right THERE!!
Me: Crazy how that happens, huh?
Mom: Well, it sure is!

After that I programmed the Chick-Fil-A into her navigation system . . .

You may also get phone calls about issues she's having with her car. She's actually really good about figuring that type of stuff out for herself but EVERY once in a while she can come up with a doozie for ya. So, if you're REALLY lucky and play your cards right, perhaps you can get a call like this, too:

Me: Hey, mom! Are you on your way to Dallas?
Mom: Yeah. But I'm so frustrated.
Me: Why?
Mom: Because my cruise control isn't working.
Me: It's not?? Are you sure? It was working the other day when I used your car.
Mom: Well, it's not now. I keep going up to 70 and then taking my foot off the pedal but then the car just slows down.
Me: Okaaaaaaay . . . this is awkward . . . ummmmm . . . did you turn the cruise control on?
Mom: YOU HAVE TO TURN IT ON?????
Me: Well . . . yeah.
Mom: Oh. Well . . . I have no idea how to do THAT.
Me: Okay. Well, there's a button on your turn signal. Do you see that?
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Okay, turn it to "On."
Mom: Okaaaaaaay . . .
Me: Now go up to 70 mph.
Mom: Okay.
Me: And then there's a button that you can push that's at the very tip of your turn signal. Push that.
Mom: Okaaaaaaay . . .
Me: Now take your foot off the gas pedal.
Mom: Well, sure enough! It's working!
Me: Yay!
Mom: You fixed it!
Me: Well, not real-
Mom: Oh I'm so relieved! My leg was getting soooooooo tired.
Me: Really? How far are you?
Mom: I'm in Willis.
Me: [pause while I laugh hysterically] Mom - you've only been on the road 20 minutes! How on EARTH is your leg tired already?
Mom: [ignoring me] Now I wish there was some way I could get my car to steer itself. My arm is REALLY tired . . .
Me: Oh good Lord . . .

The good news, though, is we pay YOU to field this type of call . . .


I'm doing this for you, friends. Because I want you to get the most out of your Nora Rental experience. I want you to have all the information you need when she shows up on your doorstep for your big party.

Of course, I'm gonna need your address well in advance so that I can get it programmed into her navigation system for her. And also because she'll want to do some research on recent deaths in your neighborhood so that she can come prepared with some light conversation material.

It's just one of the many services we offer . . .

A little too much detail . . .

I've been a little troubled by how anatomically correct mannequins have become. Have you noticed this? I certainly have . . . it's gotten so bad that now I feel like a bit of a pervert when I window shop. I find myself looking at the mannequins and self-consciously justifying my glances by saying things aloud like "Wow - I really like that shirt! I think I might get it! Especially now that I know what it'll look like on me if it's a bit chilly outside . . ."

Seriously - is it THAT important to be THAT anatomically correct?? Can we not leave some details to the imagination? I just don't get it - it's yet another reason I don't fully understand the fashion industry.

But as of this weekend, I think I might not understand the food industry, either. And, even worse, I might not fully understand my very own Lupe Tortilla. And that cuts me to the core.

Now most of you know by now that I love Lupe Tortilla. Whoever Lupe is - whereEVER she is - she is my soul mate. And, no - I don't need to meet her first before I make that decision . . . I have met her beef fajitas and that was good enough for me. They complete me, friends.

Don't judge me.

This weekend, I ate lunch there with my friend Diana. We were sitting by the kitchen in a corner on the left-hand side of the restaurant and we noticed that there was a statue of a bull on a ledge just above us as we ate. Its head was facing me and its hind quarters were facing Diana and, as we were eating, Diana happened to look up at the statue, only to discover something a bit disconcerting . . . the bull was a little TOO anatomically correct:

Seriously?? Why is this necessary? Why is this detail important? And why did the restaurant decide to stick this giant bull and his giant . . . well . . . pooper . . . out among people who are eating? I don't care who you are, you can't see this and maintain your pre-pooper-sighting appetite. It's disturbing.

Lucky for me I was on the front end of this little masterpiece so I didn't have to stare at his dung hole while I ate my fajitas. But something tells me I would have pushed through even if I had been. Because I love those fajitas so much.

And nothing - not even bull sphincters - can stop that kind of love.

Attention to detail . . .

I was driving home from work the other day and saw this sign:


How ironic: the Detail "Pro's" missed a detail. Well, I guess I can't complain too much . . . at least they didn't call themselves the Punctuation Pros.

Editors, people. EDITORS!!

Or should I say "Editor's?"