On first Halloween at The Stanford House I was thrilled to find I lived in a neighborhood where kids actually still went trick-or-treating. Where I grew up, everyone went to the street behind ours where the houses were closer together and there were actually street lights. So, needless to say, it was hard to tell who was more excited about the handing out of candy: the kids or me. One little girl, dressed as The Cat in the Hat, freaked out (in a good way) when she saw Ebbie tucked under my arm. "BOO! Boo cat! It's a boo cat!" And, from that day forward, "Boo" was added to the list of nicknames my little black (and white) cat has had to deal with.
For some reason this morning when I tried to call her "Boo" it came out more like "Beau" (I blame the ridiculous amount of murder/cop/detective shows I've been watching lately for keeping me up at night dissecting every single sound for a possible intruder). As soon as I said it the "Miss Sue" chant from grade school popped into my head and I have NOT been able to shake it. Did anyone else do that one? With the hand slapping and clapping and actions? After surfing youtube this is the closest I could come to my memory of recess but they do it a little differently than we did...
Our rhyme went like this...
MISS SUE. Miss Sue. Miss Sue from Alabaaaaaaaaama. Sittin in a rocker eatin Betty Crocker, this is what she told us. Miss Susie had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell. Miss Susie went to heaven, the steamboat went to HELLo operator, please give me number nine. And if you disconnect us, we'll chop off your BEHIND the 'fridgerator, there was a piece of glass. Miss Susie sat upon it, and broke her little ASSk me no more questions, tell me no more lies. The boys are in the bathroom, zipping up their FLIES are in the meadow, the bees are in the park. Miss Susie and her boyfriend, are kissing in the dark, dark, dark dark dark, dark.
It must have been the whole Catholic school thing that made ours so naughty and scandalous (or maybe that's just what made it seem that way at the time?) Either way...the memories.
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Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
4.02.2009
1.29.2009
Ebbiversary
OK so once in a while I mention Ebbie but I generally don't gush because I don't want to sound like a crazy cat lady. This post is the exception...
Two years ago I decided I wanted a cat so I found an endearingly ugly little diluted tortie on petfinder, packed up my roommates and headed off to the humane society. The minute I picked up that cat I knew it wasn't meant to be mine so up and down the aisles of cages we went, peering in at sad little whiskers and noses. One after another was brought out for me to hold and play with but none felt right. Then, in the bottom right corner beind thin metal bars a small black cat with white paws and a milk mustache stood up and cried at me. "I think that cat is talking to me," I whispered.
"I think you're a little bit crazy," my roommate whispered back. While I was olding her in the crowded room a boy with Downs, about 12 years old, came up to me and asked, "Is that your cat?"
"Not yet but I think I'm going to keep her."
"Good," he said decisively. "It's a good cat. That is a very good cat. Very good." And that was that. As I signed the papers a volunteer came up and tapped me on the shoulder. He thanked me for picking that pint sized tuxedo cat and told me that because of her age (she was 6 at the time) and because she had been in the shelter so long she was on the schedule to be put down soon. Her past owners had gotten a kitten and when Ebbie didn't get along with the newcomer she was shipped off to the humane society. Whatever doubts I'd had before disappeared and we packed up and headed home.
1/28/07-Busted napping on Ebbie's first day home, she was already attached to my side
Before I even knew that T.S. Eliot insists all cats must have three names, Ebbie had already morphed into Ebony Fifi Manolo which to this day is what gets shouted when she has one of her naughty moments. For the most part she is the sweetest six pound creature you will ever meet and and has turned quite a few cat-haters into lovers.
She meets me at the door, licks my forehead when I'm sick, and sleeps tucked under my arm next to my chest like a teddy bear. When I talk to myself she cocks her head to the side. If I am sitting, she is in my lap. She runs to the door to greet me when I come home and gives me an earful about having left her. I can't move from room to room without my black shadow behind me and underfoot but I wouldn't have it any other way.
1/28/09-Still my little snuggle bug
Two years ago I decided I wanted a cat so I found an endearingly ugly little diluted tortie on petfinder, packed up my roommates and headed off to the humane society. The minute I picked up that cat I knew it wasn't meant to be mine so up and down the aisles of cages we went, peering in at sad little whiskers and noses. One after another was brought out for me to hold and play with but none felt right. Then, in the bottom right corner beind thin metal bars a small black cat with white paws and a milk mustache stood up and cried at me. "I think that cat is talking to me," I whispered.
"I think you're a little bit crazy," my roommate whispered back. While I was olding her in the crowded room a boy with Downs, about 12 years old, came up to me and asked, "Is that your cat?"
"Not yet but I think I'm going to keep her."
"Good," he said decisively. "It's a good cat. That is a very good cat. Very good." And that was that. As I signed the papers a volunteer came up and tapped me on the shoulder. He thanked me for picking that pint sized tuxedo cat and told me that because of her age (she was 6 at the time) and because she had been in the shelter so long she was on the schedule to be put down soon. Her past owners had gotten a kitten and when Ebbie didn't get along with the newcomer she was shipped off to the humane society. Whatever doubts I'd had before disappeared and we packed up and headed home.
1/28/07-Busted napping on Ebbie's first day home, she was already attached to my side
Before I even knew that T.S. Eliot insists all cats must have three names, Ebbie had already morphed into Ebony Fifi Manolo which to this day is what gets shouted when she has one of her naughty moments. For the most part she is the sweetest six pound creature you will ever meet and and has turned quite a few cat-haters into lovers.
She meets me at the door, licks my forehead when I'm sick, and sleeps tucked under my arm next to my chest like a teddy bear. When I talk to myself she cocks her head to the side. If I am sitting, she is in my lap. She runs to the door to greet me when I come home and gives me an earful about having left her. I can't move from room to room without my black shadow behind me and underfoot but I wouldn't have it any other way.
1/28/09-Still my little snuggle bug
11.13.2008
Procrastination conclusion
You know that paper I procrastinated about and put off until the last second? Well, I got it back; 100%. That is beyond an A. That is an A+. "A perfect paper," according to my prof. Take that and put it on your fridge. No, really. My parents are out of town so I have no one to "OOOO" and "AAHHHH" over my big girl accomplishment and I decided putting my grading sheet up on the fridge in the break room at work might be a little sad/creepy/desperate. So, here I am...hanging it on a virtual refrigerator so you can humor me by "OOOOing" and "AAHHHing."
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