the cat was short lived ... literally

"Bengal's dead :(", was a text message I got today from my little brother.

Moments later, he followed that with, "I think skye got her."

I expressed my deepest sympathy (and masked my secret being-okay-with-her-passing) and told him that I really didn't think it was Skye for multiple reasons: 1) they were never together that long and 2) Skye never had blood on her.

When Skye's killed something, she's proud. She'd much rathre run up to me, blood covered, with her tongue lolling out of her mouth and the most proud expression on her face than discreetly lick away the evidence.

As it turns out, Bengal died as a result of eating poinsettia leaves, which apparently are poisonous to cats.

I did feel bad, in all actuality.

But not bad enough to replace the kitten that turned our house upside down.

Christmas and winter and other things I haven't thought too much about

Yesterday was the first day of winter. It was 88 degrees here in Texas.

Now we know how the great southern state feels about winter. I mean, I'll admit, 88 degrees is an improvement from the weather I was dealing with last December but there's still something to be said about coldness and Christmas and wintertime.

I'm still sipping my tea with a blanket handy just in case the temperature dips into, you know, the 50s *gasp*!

I did not care about the lunar eclipse (was it last night?) and therefore I did not stay up any later past my bedtime to watch it.

I care about Christmas from the standpoint of celebrating baby Jesus' birth. Otherwise, the reason I haven't blogged about Christmas before now is because I'm just not feeling the proverbial Christmas spirit.

Could be that it's hard to be festive in 88-degree weather. Could be that I'm a scrooge this year and am just not feeling it. Could also be that my profession does not lend itself to the Christmas spirit. The day is just another news day.

One thing I have thought about is 2011 and my resolution, which I never have. I've also been thinking about my Year in Review post. And my newspaper's last edition of the year, which is going to kick ass.

he decimated my pie

I yelled when I went in the kitchen and saw my cheesecake destroyed.

I made it from a box for the family because it's a favorite. With cherries on top.

"Who decimated the cheesecake?!"

Considering there was one person in the form of a 13-year-old boy sitting in the recliner with a fresh piece, my options were limited.

"I want you to know that by ruining how this looks, you've ruined how it's going to taste," I told him.

You agree, right?

He argued he didn't do it on purpose, the utensil slipped, the crust was too hard and that, in fact, how it looks has nothing to do with how it tastes.

airlifted

There was a first in our family last week.

Evalyn was airlifted from our county hospital to a children's hospital with what we found out later was pneumonia that was preventing her from breathing.

I made it to the hospital just as the helicopter was landing. And just in time to see her being wheeled out, hug Katie real quick and take a few pictures before they lifted off.

Leave it to Ebbles to be the first in our family to go helicoptering.

By day and by night

I read an article recently about journalists who live with their parents and being completely okay with it. Like, it's normal. You know what's not normal? Being a journalist and NOT living with your parents.

By day, I'm a newspaper editor leading my noble staff to reporter-victory.

By night, I'm a tired and sometimes cranky big sister who gets frustrated at the dogs and yells at incompetent athletes on TV.

I also misbehave in McDonalds and try my best to tell a joke but inherently fail.

I used to be a journalist and not live with multiple family members. But now I've joined the honorable ranks of reporters who rub shoulders with important-titled people by day and at night cuddle on the couch with a sibling and a football game.

They are honorable ranks, really. There's no sarcasm there.

While I'm blogging this, my little brother is playing PS3 with a friend right next to me. My sister's alternating between watching them and reading over my shoulder.

I'm cataloging in my head my to-do list for tomorrow ... as newspaper editor and big sister.

I want to run away

A friend texted me this morning, "U ok? Haven't heard from you in awhile."

Things I Should Say:
"Oh yeah, I'm great. Life is peachy. How are you?"

Things I Want to Say:
"Life sucks right now and if I could go back and change the decisions of some people and how they've affected me recently, I would."

Things No One But Me Should Ever Know About:
"Do you ever feel like life has reached an unwarranted level of insanity and the only solution is packing your bags and finding a dark room somewhere where the sleep and strong drinks are endless and maybe, if you're lucky, someone's there to hold you all night long or not, depending on what you want?"

Despite the title which suggests that perhaps these are Things No One But Me Should Ever Know About, that's how I'm doing.

My heart is only brave for so long and then sometimes it just needs to hide.

Competition

You don't know it but I was competing with myself to see if I could blog every day this month.

Competitive-blogging-by-myself fail, which is why I didn't make a big announcement about the non-existent blogging project because I thought that maybe if I didn't acknowledge it, it would just happen naturally. Plus, when it did fail (which I fully expected it to), then I wouldn't have another blog project that, you know, just never happened.

So now I'm like 7 blog posts behind schedule and maybe I can squeeze out some content in the next few days to make up for it.

Or maybe not. There's no telling.

Blogging for me is this thin line between Things I Want to Say, Things I Should Say and Things No One But Me Should Ever Know About.

Like for example, Things I Want to Say would be that I'm deshelling sunflower seeds in my mouth like an expert. Things I Should Say would be that I'm eating a perfectly healthy snack in the form of sunflower seeds. Things No One But Me Should Ever Know About would be that I just missed my cup and spit sunflower shells across my desk calendar.

Do you see the balancing act?

Almost a year ago I wrote an entry that probably goes down as My Most Embarrassing Post Ever. I'm surprised I haven't deleted it; I'm surprised I'm linking you to it again. It's kinda like that old ratty couch from college - it was free and it means something.

But my segue into the Most Embarrassing Post Ever was boldly blogging and while I still hold true to that (you're not going to read lies here!), you're also not going to read Things No One But Me Should Ever Know and even sometimes you're likely not to get Things I Want to Say because Things I Want to Say can sometimes be harsh and brash and ugly even though I think they could be categorized as Things I Should Say.

I started this post out talking about competition - the title's even 'competition - and what I meant to tell you was that right now, I'm placing third for the most bylines in my newsroom over the last two weeks.

I want first place.