About Me

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Bookkeeper, tax preparer, cat lady, blogger, organizer, mystery writer.

Welcome!

I've finally decided that I am a writer - all the other things I do just pay the bills. Someone eloquent once said that if you do what you love, the money will follow. Well, let's just see about that.

RIP Aggie

RIP Aggie
Aggie was my fifteen-year-old cairn terrier - or maybe I should say I was her 55-year-old person! She was my faithful companion, spoiled rotten and I am still trying to figure out what to do without her.

Peter the Cat...

Peter the Cat...
This is Peter the gingersnap tabby! He's seven years old and has just been promoted to Peter the Very, Very Good. He is working his way up to Peter the Great...

Bee - the Cat Who Came From Somewhere Else...

Bee - the Cat Who Came From Somewhere Else...
Bee is Peter's buddy. He's eight years old and has made himself right at home. I guess cats really do come in pairs or sets of three!

And Jasper makes three!

And Jasper makes three!
Jasper is our new guy - the Cat From Another Place. He's four years old and we think he likes it here - so far, so good!

Buzz about...

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Crispers...

Against my better judgment, I’m meeting a friend for lunch at Crispers today.  Yes, I’m looking forward to my Signature Summer Salad – I know, I’m in a rut – but I am not looking forward to the inane, incessant babbling of my friend.  That’s a terrible thing to say, I know, but it’s true.  My grandma used to tell us that the only way to have a friend is to be one, and I am trying, but sometimes it’s hard to be friends with someone you don’t have much, if anything, in common with.  One of my clients referred this person to me when she needed tax advice and I hired her to clean my office once a month.  I know it’s partly my fault for being friendly and listening to her amazing variety of problems and personal drama, but once you’ve heard all the gory details – and I mean all of them – you’ve sort of attained friend status without meaning to.  She’s over forty going on sixteen – mainly due to having fried her brain on drugs and alcohol when she was a teenager.  She’s had a million jobs, some of them probably unsavory, but she’s been sober for ten years, so I have to give her credit for that.  I have a history of taking on rescue projects and really, I didn’t mean to take on another one, but it looks like I have – whether I am happy about it or not.  Since I moved the office home, and I don’t really need cleaning help, I’ve managed to keep our contact to a minimum.  But, in a moment of weakness, I agreed to lunch and it’s far too late to cancel without being completely rude.  I know this makes me seem like an unfeeling ogre or something, but I like to have an uplifting conversation about books or movies or just life once in awhile instead of he-said-she-said drama, financial difficulties or all the bad news on television.  Maybe I’m the one with my head in the clouds – is everyone’s life so dramatic?  I’ve always tried to avoid drama – heck, I even quit working for the last guy I worked for because he had altogether too much drama in his life, from taking on a crazed mortgage broker partner to dating a pole dancer I called Stripperella.  I even try to minimize the potential drama in my own life by just letting things go.  I guess the other reason I’m not looking forward to lunch is that this woman insists upon asking me if I’ve heard from Tim or if I’m still upset about the whole situation.  It’s like she’s disappointed that I’m not crushed or brokenhearted.  And even if I were, I damn sure wouldn’t talk to an emotional forty-seven year old teenager about it.  The last time I saw her she asked me if there was anyone new in my life.  I actually laughed.  She’s amazed that I don’t want anyone new in my life – and I explained to her that I don’t define myself in terms of a relationship with a man and I never have.  And that she ought not to define her self-worth that way either.  She’s not taken my advice so far and I seriously doubt that she ever will.  I am perfectly happy on my own with my dog and my cat.  I have my own place and books to read.  I have friends that I can actually have a conversation with that doesn’t involve drama.  As mean as it may sound, I think it’s time to start backing away from this friendship; staying home, reading a book and eating a peanut butter sandwich with Aggie and Peter is much more appealing.

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