Tag: creativity

Hairless cats

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“When you grow up, I’m going to buy you a hairless cat!” my daughter taunted her younger brother this morning, in a way that implied this was the ultimate curse.

My youngest, unfazed that he would be saddled with a non-cuddly pet at the hands of his sister, snickered and continued eating his breakfast. He didn’t even look up from his cereal.

“It’ll jump up on your lap, and you’ll want to pet it, but you won’t want to touch it,” my daughter continued. “It’ll rub up against you, wanting attention, but it’ll be like holding a wrinkly, newborn baby—a naked, PURRING baby!” Hmm… having held a newborn baby or two in my time, I can’t say that would be a terrible thing. But it wouldn’t actually be a baby….

“You’ll have to put on lotion to touch it!” I’m not sure if she meant on himself or on the cat….

Seriously. I have no idea where that last thought came from. I did once have a cat that pulled out all of his fur, a nervous habit, and I called the vet to see if he needed sunscreen. But lotion? Perhaps a hairless cat would get dry skin in the winter. Interesting. I am always fascinated by the direction conversations take in our house.

This particular conversation emerged from a series of disagreeable discussions that J and her older brother had engaged in since they met up at the breakfast table. Finally disgusted, she turned her attention to her younger brother to have some more jovial interaction. We had been talking about who was occupying the wrong seat at the breakfast table; how annoying the morning singing was; and a plethora of other seemingly meaningless topics when she announced that she was going to be a crazy cat lady when she grew up. Then, the hairless cat idea began to emerge.

While the morning had not been going well, this conversation—just as I was getting ready to walk out the door—turned my mood around. As I drove off to work, I was still giggling about the hairless cat, and the “punishment” she would bestow upon her brother when they were older….

Snowmen

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Each year at this time, an army of snowman cookies arrives at my house. Uh, wait… let me start over.

Each year at this time, through a great deal of effort on my part, an army of snowmen arrives at my house. This year, I tried to gain support for the cause. On Sunday morning, I looked at W sitting on the couch surfing the Internet on the iPad. “Hey W,” I watched him intently. He looked up. “Do you like to make little balls out of clay?” I asked with a tone that implied I had something exciting in store for him.

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow before he sighed with a hint of disgust. “Do you want help with your snowmen?” Yep, he was on to me. Every year, I try the same tactic.

I nodded too fast, like an excited puppy. “Yeah! You wanna help?”

“Not really,” he replied as he returned to the iPad. I went to the kitchen, hauled out the bowl full of dough, and began to roll it into balls. Tiny balls. Actually, three different sizes per snowman. These cookies are labor intensive, but they are the local favorite—in my house, in my neighborhood, and among my family. The fact that they have been a favorite is why I have continued to make them. Every year. For seventeen years.

It wasn’t long before I had an army of little snowmen on my kitchen table. And taste-testers hovering. My daughter had her first bite. “I think we should keep them all this year. We give away too many.” This thought was one that would never fly with my neighbor who believes I make these cookies specifically for her and then withhold all but a small number.

I turned to Facebook with this thought. To my neighbor I posted, “My taste-tester just tried a snowman and says we need to keep them all this year.” The reply: a resounding “NO!” and the annual “war of the snowmen” had begun.

At least daily, I receive a text, Facebook message, phone call, or an in-person assault. “Where are my snowmen?!” And daily, I have to deliver the difficult news that they are still naked, they have to stick together for their “army” training, or they have not yet said good-bye to their friends. (Really, I’m stalling while I make other cookies to “fluff up” the plate). Soon, my neighbor on the other side adds her two cents in anticipation of receipt of her yummy snowmen.

These little snowmen have evolved over the years. Initially, they were simply a part of my cookie tradition. But through the annual battle, these cookies have taken on a life of their own. They add extra fun to the holidays in my neighborhood, and they bring us together each year. I imagine I will continue to make them for another seventeen years. And I wonder how the tradition will evolve from here.

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Packages

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My youngest and I were discussing a package that I recently ordered—not a present for anyone, but a necessary item to make some presents that I will be giving. Because I never think of it quite early enough, stores generally run out of the item by this point in the season. So I went online and found what I was looking for; and I ordered some. If I’m lucky, the package will be here before Christmas. “Maybe the package will arrive today?” W said thoughtfully.

“I’d be surprised. I don’t think it has even been shipped yet.”

His expression brightened in thought, and I could see his mind churning. “What if the government discovered the ability to teleport things, and they only shared the technology with the USPS and UPS?” Yeah… because that’s going to happen. But imagination is an amazing thing, isn’t it?

“So your packages just appear at your house? Like… Boom! There’s my package!?” I pantomimed a surprised look as I glanced at the kitchen floor.

He laughed. “Yep, like that.”

“Darn! I just tripped over my package. I wish those people would stop delivering things to the middle of my kitchen when I’m not expecting it!” I dramatized tripping over a package that appeared via this new delivery method.

“What if you ordered something heavy, and it landed on the cat?” He cringed for effect.

“Ooh, that would not be good! Hopefully, the cat could run away fast enough.”

“Especially if you ordered something really big!” he added.

“Yikes!” I responded, thinking back to a time when something very big was mistakenly delivered to my house. I had to call UPS to come pick it up because it wouldn’t even fit through my front door. I briefly wondered if they would be able to teleport a pick-up as well as a delivery….

“Imagine if you ordered a car, and it landed right on your kitchen table!” W said, and we both laughed. I imagine that would be the end of my house, not just my kitchen table.

And with a little imagination, I now know how thankful I am that the government does not (yet) have this technology!

Oddities

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In my refrigerator this morning, I found the juice container with half a sip of juice barely visible in the bottom. Essentially, it was empty. I poured myself the little that was left, just to see if it might be at all satisfying. It was not. There was not even enough to wash down one tiny Vitamin D pill. I have a difficult time believing that the person who returned this container to the fridge couldn’t possibly ingest even a few lingering drops of juice. Really, I can’t imagine.

My first thought is laziness. The person who—by all reasonable standards—finished off the juice didn’t want to have to rinse out the container and throw it in the trash. That’s a lot of work, right? Most likely, the culprit was also considering the fact that the next person who wanted juice might complain that the person who used it all should be responsible for the trip to the basement to grab more juice…. But I’m speculating here.

My next thought is consideration for the needs of the next person to want juice. In fact, the culprit did not finish all of the juice, thereby leaving some for the next person. Or not.

Possibility number three: Science experiment. While we typically have numerous science experiments going on in our house at any given time, they are more likely to resemble something that would be confiscated in an airport security screening—metal and wires and miniscule electronic parts and battery packs that might have started a small fire once or twice in the past week or two. So “science experiment” would be a stretch in this case.

No, I am left to believe that this is the work of the teen brain. The culprit took out the juice, poured a desired amount into the cup, and put the container back where it was. There is no hidden agenda here. It wasn’t consideration for or a lack of thought for the next person. It was, in fact, a lack of thought. Juice goes in the fridge. End of discussion.

With three teen brains wandering my house, I know there will be more bizarre discoveries for me to question and obsess over. In fact, my house most likely holds a treasure trove of the not-quite-right. Discovering these oddities gives me food for thought, keeps me on my toes, and—oddly enough—inspires creativity!