Tag Archives: sleeping

The Drama of Sleeping

The last time I had a good nights sleep was in the womb.

While I love to sleep, I would not get a Girl Scout badge for being able to get a Good Night’s Sleep.   My sleep is disturbed on a nightly basis.

Many of us encounter sleep hindrances at night.  Like the boogie man of our younger years.  It’s like dangling your feet over the edge of the bed and taunting the monster who lives underneath, “Come and get me.”  Who will it be tonight?

I’m not even going to discuss the ancient old night time sleep suckers of:

  • Over active brain: computing the answer to mathematical coupon codes and grocery balances only Mrs. Brady would be proud to solve.
  • Night sweats: so horrendous you think you just went through Niagara Falls.
  • Wiggly Leg Syndrome: where you too, can pretend to run the marathon.  Any marathon.
  • Snoring: Your partner’s participation in the “1912 Overture” inserting their snoring as the cannons.

We could go on and on. Eating too late, drinking coffee too late, put down the iPhone for crying out loud!  Uncomfortable bed, too many blankets, exercised too late…maybe your counting sheep are on strike. (told you to buy the second cut hay.)

However, I’m finding my sleep is being interrupted by absurdities.  The ironic thing?

I’m not willing to give them up.

Case one:

Take this morning for example.  Literally.  5:15AM.

I woke up to a “gobble gobble gobble.”

“Gobble gobble gobble.”

“Gobble gobble gobble.”


“Gobble gobble.”

Sounds lovely doesn’t it?  Right below my window.

Nature’s alarm clock.

Not one.  Not two.  Not three turkeys.

Try 20.

All chatting. Gobbling.  Talking over one another.

Obviously, about how well they slept.

Imagine a gaggle of elderly ladies all shouting about how wonderful their grandchildren are…or better yet a group of people standing in line at Starbucks waiting in line and the machines go down…”Where’s MY COFFEE?!”  “MINE FIRST!”

Case Two:

Next up are the party animals.

At first you don’t notice them.  Just a bit of loud casual conversations. Next, the group gets going into a roar and then it’s a howler and everyone is in on the whooping and yelping.  Good grief I always think.  There’s only a few of you…amazing the noise.

I don’t keep late hours.  So when this gang gets going somewhere between 9:00PM and 3:00AM…they’re killing me.

Seriously, I love my coyotes though.

I have to laugh, if they start early enough and I’m up and doing something in the living room…..often I think… “that’s a really odd emergency alarm.”  Nope.  It’s the coyotes out back.

I post their voices regularly on my FB page through video….it’s something else.


Speaking of sleep habits, last week I woke up in a panic and was immediately annoyed with myself.  I realized I had overslept.

I woke up my better half and told him, “Oh my god!  I overslept! I missed my dentist appointment.”

His response was, “When was your appointment?”

I tell him it was at 10:00AM and it’s NOW 10:30AM!  I overslept!  I missed my appointment!

By this time, I was out of the bed.  I’m completely baffled how this could have happened as I set my alarm.  He gets up at a ridiculously early time every day, before the worms and birds are even up.  He would have made sure I was up. HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

My better half says, “Your appointment was on Thursday?”

I say “Yes! At 10:00AM!”

He looks at me and then says, “It’s 10:30PM.  It’s NIGHT TIME.  Go back to bed.”

I look at him.

I look at how BRIGHT it is in our bedroom.

I don’t believe him.

All the clocks (three of them) say 10:30.

He tells me again, “It’s 10:30 at NIGHT.”

Doubting him still, I go out to the living room and look out the window.

Well hell.  He’s right. It’s night time.

You see, we recently purchased a Himalayan Salt Lamp for the bedroom as several people have told us how wonderful they are for helping with various issues such as migraine headaches. They’re also, when they don’t have a dimmer switch, VERY BRIGHT.

Damn Himalayan Salt Lamp. Case Three

Last night, again, I woke up in a panic.

I thought our bedroom was on fire.

Nope, just the damn lamp.







“Hey! Are You Sleeping?” Said The Mother.

I have two business trips coming up, the first of which takes me to Vancouver, British Columbia.  Conviently, my Mother’s house is somewhat along the way. She lives in the hell fire deserts of Palm Desert, California.

See, it’s along the way, so I make a pit stop.

Fear not, trust me, there is a blog coming about my flights from Boston to the blazing hot, scorching deserts of California.  This however, is a quicker story for my internal body temperature will not allow much more than 5,000 words….as the external temperature of the sands rise, so does the temperature on my scalp.

In fact, as I write this, it is reaching 105 degrees today in Palm Desert.  That is hotter than two mice having sex in a wool sock, next to a wood stove, in January hot.  Just saying.

The day of my flight, I got up at 4:00AM.

Arrived to the airport at 7:30 AM.

Went through TSA Pre-check screening, had my shoulder bag x-rayed twice and then searched by 8:25 AM.

Took off on my first flight by 9:45 AM.

Took off on my second flight by 1:30 PM.

Arrived to the desert at 2:30 PM.

Mind you being on the west coast, makes my life three hours behind my regular program.  Everything is confusing to me.  I convince myself to stay awake until 8:00 PM.  Then I can go and take  shower and get ready for bed.  It will be 8:30 by the time my head hits the pillow and by God, that’s close enough.

Eureka!  8:00 arrives and I couldn’t be happier.  I am off and running.  Good night Mother.  Good night two chihuahua dogs..Buddy and Tina.  See you in the morning.

By 8:35 I am in bed, lights out.


Next thing I know, for some reason I am being woken up.  Don’t know by what.  Don’t know by whom.

I hear someone calling my name.  What the hell?  What?

I turn over and see my Mother standing by my bed.

??? Ok this is odd.

??? Why is my Mother standing next to my bed?

??? What???

??? Why is her head glowing?

??? Where the hell am I?

??? What the hell is she saying?

??? Who is dead?

??? What???

??? What the hell is she talking about?

??? Whose dead?

??? Where the hell am I and how did my Mother get here?

??? Who the hell is Tina?

??? What the hell?

At this point I figure, well if my Mother is here, I might as well follow her to see what the hell is going on.  All I can think is….who the hell is Tina?

I follow her out to the living room and my sleepy fog starts to lift…….

Ooooooohhhhh, I am at my Morher’s house.  Ok.

She’s upset. Ok.

She thinks the dog is dead.  TINA.


My Mother goes over to Tina’s bed and says, “TINA!  Come on! Time to get up!” And she claps her hands.

I am like, well…..the dog is deaf…..no wonder she isn’t responding….she can’t hear you.

Then my Mother grabs Tina’s head and it flops back on to the bed.

Lifeless.  No response.

Well. Shit.

Maybe, the dog is dead……not like I am an expert at these things.  So then I think, well now what?  We have a 12 pound porky Chihuahua dead in a bed.  Now what?  I ask the obvious….

“Do you have an emergency vet?”

As we stand there looking at the dog.

The Mother yells, “Wait!  Did she just breathe?”

I’m like…..lady, I barely know what state I’m in at the moment.  Could be Massachusetts or it could be California….

Mother yells, “No!  She definitely moved!  Look!”  And sure enough….Tina, the death defying, coma inducing, deep sleeping dog came rousing back to life.

With this, I bent over, put my forearms on my thighs and took some deep breaths.

SWEET JESUS!  I am going back to bed.

The Mother came and tucked me back into bed with a kiss on the forehead.  I took a look at my cell phone before going back to sleep…..it was a whopping 9:35PM.

Exhausted, I laughed….”who the hell is Tina?”










OMG! There Is Something IN THE BED!

Scene: 1:30AM. The AC has just kicked on and everyone is sleeping peacefully in the house.

The gentle, tick, tick, tick of the ceiling fan going round and round eases through the hazy night like the register of a musician’s time keeper.

One small feline, known as Taku, is curled up in the middle of the king size bed, next to her momma’s hip. Snuggled in for the night as usual.

Without warning, it strikes.

Here….we go…..the story begins:

Taku erupts like she was spring loaded from a Jack in the Box.

In one swift move, Taku ejects herself from the middle of the king size bed, to the bottom of the bed, to the floor. Something had her and she was terrified. What was worse, it woke me up and I was gobsmacked as to WTF was going on at 1:30 in the morning.

One moment the homo-sapien feline momma was peacefully dreaming of roller-saking at Radnor Rolls and the next minute I’m shock-forced awakened to trauma kitty freaking out about the monster in the bed.

WTF is going on? Who is President? Who won best actor in the Golden Globes? Who married George Clooney? How many days till summer? What day is it? Can I wear pink striped pants and yellow shoes? I’m so confused? I love kitty cats.

What? Where am I?

Taku comes back up into the bed. And decides to…..STALK my better half’s side of the bed.

Taku, is only 9 months old and is generally full of piss and vinegar. For her to be afraid of something, is unusual. This is out of the ordinary. Not to mention…in the middle of the night.

She returns to our bed, and when she does, she is scared and decides to stalk “the prey” by crawling along side my legs as I lay on my back in bed. Belly crawling would be the name of the game at this point.


The entire time, she is focused on something on the side of the bed my other half is sleeping on.

Well, thank goodness it’s not my half of the bed.


Nothing. She is serious about whatever she is hunting.

She is shaking.

She is VERY intent on her kill target.

Shit, was she hoping for a part in Kill Bill?

Then she stops and the posturing beings.

Butt up.

Front leg out.

Whapp. Whapp.


She is smacking things in the bed covers.



I sit up, look at her, look at what she’s smacking and advise her, like the good homo-sapien mother, “there is nothing here.”

She turns around and hurls herself off the bed.

I start to settle into a doze of a sleep and she is back again. Stalking her prey.


I look at her and tell her…..
Taku, there is nothing there.

She ignores me. And then proceeds to belly crawl up the bed towards my hip. Every third step she stops and looks.

Her neck extends like E.T.

I swear, her neck must go another 5 inches in length….ridiculous for such a small cat.

Next thing…..wack, wack, wack…..with her long front legs…..kill that bed cover.

Then she runs off the bed.

Again she comes back up to the bed….and here we go again….crawling along my legs.

Her neck is extending.

She is now got an eye on a new target.

Her head is swaying back and forth on the target……

Her right paw comes up….ready to deliver a grand swat in the dark.

I stop her just as she is about to strike an erie….green.….glow in the dark… a watch face.


This is the last thing I need…Taku Kitty smacking…. the Better Half in the middle of the night…..over a mysterious glowing green watch face! Are you f-ing kidding me? Oh for crying out loud! This is not a monster!

She leaps off the bed, literally throws up on the floor ….because she’s so frightened by what she’s seen. Mind you, by this point, I’ve been whispering to her and trying to calm her down.

All she knows is something nearly had her. All she can see is some ridiculously glowing green thing…..a watch face. Which of course, must die, at 1:45AM.

I’m thinking. Is there something more?

After throwing up her entire dinner, she gets back up on the bed and proceeds to hunt the attacker.

This has to stop. I have to show her. There’s nothing there. It’s like reasoning with a child.


I debate. Do I turn on the bedside light or the cell phone light? You know they put those handy little lights in the cell phones now. How nice! The better half says he can sleep through anything. We’ve been together for ever – so I decide….if there truly is something “IN THE BED” then I want to see it clearly, so I’m turning on the bedside light. I put my glasses on and prepare myself.

I flip on the light.

The Mister wakes up immediately….of course and looks at me.

It’s not like I could say, “Our youngest was having a nightmare and thought there was something attacking her….which was YOUR WATCH!”

So I just blink twice at him and calmly say, “Sorry. I thought there was something in the bed. Sorry.” All the while, quickly shuffling the blankets around to ensure I didn’t see anything scurrying around underneath.

Then here comes the ALPHA kitty – Liggy comes up on the bed. She, is of course, foliowed by Taku.

Liggy is the Queen of All Things Cat. And I swear, although Liggy likes to snuggle, I think Taku was so scared, she went and told Liggy…….I can so see this happening and this is how it happened:

“There’s something green and glowing in there and it scared me…you go in there and look.”

So Liggy climbs up on the bed….gets a drink of water out of my water glass and then curls up by my pillow…no big deal. Done. She has done this for years. Get over it small fry…is what Liggy is thinking.

There could have been a Palmeto Bug (aka flying coach roach). There could have been a lizard. There could have been a roach. There could have been a who knows whatever. Liggy doesn’t give a rat’s ass. Liggy is 14 or 15 years old. Whatever. I’m here. Move over. Feed me. Love me. Snuggle me. Get over it, or eat it. Or leave the room. Meh. I’m too old for this shit.

Everyone calmed down or left the room until morning.

I woke up at 6:30, at which point…..we progressed to Chapter 6 of the story:

Taku was still terrified of the bed. She was still very busy hunting that half of the bed. I had to pull all the covers off the bed to show her, “THERE IS NOTHING THERE….STOP BEING SO JUMPY. STOP ATTACKING THE BLANKETS.”

She has since investigated the room numerous times on her own and has come to the conclusion, it was a bad dream that was transferred the the glow in the dark watch face.

I have ensured The Mister has removed the watch and placed it face down on the side table….so as to not cause a pandaemonium overnight. OMG and heaven help all of us if it truly was a Palmetto Bug, or anything else, in the bed….because then truly, you will have to pry me off the ceiling along with the Taku.

Anyone Want to Go to the Disco?

I am on a cruise ship.

For work.

It’s a conference.

The upside is that I will likely sleep like a dead person in a cold moseleum as the movement of any kind of boat puts me to sleep. 

The downside is I really want to go to the “disco” but don’t know that anyone would go.  I retract that.  Yes, there are people who would go if I asked.  But the catch is this…..one of my favorite songs would come on and then….guess what…..I’m not going out there to dance by myself.   It’s one thing to go and hang out it’s another to hit the dance floor if your favorite song comes on.  This is a problem.    Anyone want to go dancing?  (The question is currently echoing up and down the vast hallways of the oceanliner.  Pinging back and forth between the Martini bar and the photo gallery…..)  I’d actually have a better chance at meeting Davey Jones and getting my hands on his locker than getting someone to go dancing with me. 


News Flash:  I’m not Billy Idol and I’m not Dancing with Myself at the disco….thank you.

What is even more patetic is at sail away this afternoon there were two couples out on the deck snapping pictures.  Mid-30’s.  At one point the girls commented, “This is the best picture yet of you guys….your butts.”  The one guy the proceeded to go and impersonate the Incredible Hulk or his power lifting skills or how the Pillsbury Dough Boy giggles at the airport x-ray – all I know is he was leaping around like a 250 pound ballerina that should have called it quits in second grade. 

Yep, we’re on a cruise.

They were well on their way to bliss.  Which, was later confirmed at the conclusion of second seating dinner when the same two couples was stumbling out of the dining room.  Apparently after too many Long Islands and Coronas already six hours into the cruise and the one husband was counseling his wife on how to be a nicer individual.  Wow.

Two minutes behind them was a gaggle of women in their 70’s wearing flashing LED sunglasses and necklaces.  They looked like they were dangerously on the prowl for some young 60 year old’s as they swaggered from side to side out to the hallway.   Edwin, hit the alarm, here come the Nannas!

Neither gang of guests looked like anything I’d want to encounter in a disco, let alone on an elevator going to the 4th floor.  Thank you, but I’ll take the stairs.  Good grief.

So ponder me this.  What do you think it means when your cabin has….





count them….THREE

full length ….floor to ceiling mirrors in front of the bed?  I checked the outside of the cabin and it CLEARLY doesn’t say I have the honeymoon suite.  I looked in the closets and didn’t find any weird ass bondage shit.  I thought there was a strange hook in the ceiling over the bed – like you’d hang a trapeze  or maybe a swing from it – M E O W – but it turns out it’s only  a sprinkler.  That was a little disappointing.

Seeing myself out of the edges of my eyesight as I write this is pretty fucking creepy.

Somoeone typing on a computer.

                               Just like me.

Someone wearing pajamas.

                             Just like me.

Someone with the same crazy ass hair style – aka  “a rat’s nest”

                             Just like me.

Someone wearing the same glasses.

                            Just like me.


If you’re going to put these mirrors in here maybe put some frosting over them or provide a video camera to record activity, provide the kinky shit or give us something to take the edge of the creepiness.  I’m not hip on seeing myself all the time. 

Sup?  How you doin’?

Don’t fret.  I’ve solved the problem. 

1 sheet + 1 strip of duct tape = bye bye weird ass mirrors.





Night Time Decisions

Middle of the night.

Sound asleep.

Two dogs snoring.

One man snoring.

I’m awake.

One cat happily sleeping curled up in my left arm.

This is my life.

Then it dawns on me.  I have to pee.  It’s not a normal pee.  It’s a pain inflicting, right side of the abdomen, got to go….kind of pee.

I consider my situation.  Favorite small, old cat in my left arm….happily snoozing.  Our 60 pound dog snoring loudly on my left side, draped over my knees to my right side.  Better half, snoring in a deep slumber on my right side.

Crap.  I’m like a human sandwich.  There’s no escape from this without disturbing someone.  Then it hits me.

My CALVES are sweating.

Damn dog.

She’s too hot and way too heavy to be sleeping across my calves.

I continue to ponder the situation.

The sleeping cat is my favorite, so I’d prefer not to wake her.  But the dog is mostly on her side.  The better half is on my right side – also very close.  Hate to wake him up….he’s sleeping so nicely.  Minus the snoring.

Maybe I could try to go back to sleep.

I try.

My jaw is clenched.  Concentrating on the sleep factor…..

Then I notice again – my calves have sweat dripping off them.  From the dog.

Okay.  Enough.

I gently try to remove myself from the covers and bed.  Nobody seems to upset.  It’s like riding the waves of the ocean.  Sweet.

Into the master bathroom I go.

I return to the bed.  Look at the animals sleeping so peacefully and the human who is now on their backs, with arms stretched overhead….and it hits me.

Great.  I got out.  How do I get back in?

I ponder the guest room for a moment.  That will take too much effort.  Take my pillows, alarm clock, water glass, step stool for the older cat to get into bed.  Too much work.  In the end I climbed gingerly into the king size bed and try to pull down the cocoon like covers and nestle myself inside.

Of course, although it’s a king size bed, my share is like a twin bed.

I get the covers pulled down, wiggle myself between the sheets.  Cuddle the favorite cat.  Place legs under the 60 pound dog and call it good.

Ahhhhhh…peaceful sleep coming my way.  What bliss.


Are you kidding me?  My pajama pants are strangling me.  Twisted around my legs and waist.  I feel like I’m drowning in quick sand.


Honestly….just a night’s sleep is all I want.

I ponder the situation.  Again.  Nope, have to move the pajamas around.  This is going to drive me crazy.  If I was Jack the Bean Stalk that would be one conclusion….however I’m not and my pants are creeping up towards my waist line in a speed only known to Superman.


I throw myself on my back and grab the legs of my pajamas…..pulling them from around my leg.  The outcome, although disappointing…requires all pets to vacate the area.  Better half rolls over and snores towards the windows.  It’s both a blessing and a curse, as I lay there waiting for sleep to come.

Pete & Repeat: The Blessed Baby Story

Note: names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Last night we went out to dinner with a group of friends. Actually, our friend Kevin was visiting from out of town and he wanted to get together with a couple of friends, John and Tara. (Note: they’re not a couple) Kevin suggested we all go to dinner. Sounds good. The plan, last I heard, was we’d go to dinner at 6:00 then come home to watch a movie. Great!

We walk into the restaurant and I learn our reservations, that Kevin made, were for 7:30PM. You must be joking? And the reservations aren’t for five – they’re now for a party of ten. Oy, my third eye is starting to twitch. Mentally, I tick off who I think was invited and who I think will actually show up.

Into the bar we go and I immediately order a double vodka/tonic with a lime. It’s not that I don’t like going out to dinner with people. It’s when you have to sit around for 90 minutes beforehand, chatting and acting like you care….with people you rarely associate with ….in a bar that’s too loud so you’re yelling at each other…..or nodding your head like you understand a word they’re saying, when you have no clue….it’s too much effort some nights.

Thank god for the bars that have tvs in every corner. I mentally zone out. It doesn’t matter what’s on…sports, world news, stock reports…I’m focused on what color combination is coming up on the next reporter. (Now and again I get lucky and it’s a UFC fight, which I totally love.) Once in awhile I zone back into a conversation to see if I’ve missed anything but truth be told, I can’t even hear Kevin, whose sitting across from me. I know he’s telling a story about his newborn baby, which I’m pretty sure I have already heard, so I zone back out into my own little world…all the while thinking to myself…shoot me.

Cases like this, when someone invites a group of people together, there’s always a few that never show up. It wouldn’t matter if you traveled across Africa in a wool coat to see them, with a goat offering over your shoulders, they still wouldn’t come out of their house to acknowledge you. If given the invite list before hand I could have wagered a bet and been correct on who wouldn’t attend. Drives me nuts. They view themselves so far up the ladder of life, the peasants and peons of the commoners are nothing but lint on their trousers. Give me a break.

I zone back into the conversation and John’s wife Mary has arrived and she’s in a deep discussion with Kevin and Tracy about breast pumps and baby feeding schedules. Not that she has a baby, she just really, really wants one. Zoning out again….hey, look, I haven’t seen those pictures of the tsunami yet.

It’s now almost 8:00pm and we’re still sitting in the bar. Apparently, the table that we’re scheduled for has a group that won’t leave. I offer to get up and go have a word with this over-staying group but was ignored. Tracy can’t decide if it’s okay to order appetizers or not and she’s starving, as are most at the table. I’m tired and turning crabby after sitting for TWO HOURS… I make the executive decision and suggest she order them. Last I looked our hands weren’t broken and we can carry the appetizers to our table if necessary. How difficult can it be? One foot in front of the other and don’t drop the plate. The server already said it was fine. It’s not like you’re trying to decide if you should get a nose piercing. If you’re hungry, I’d rather you order something than to keep eyeballing the lime wedge in my drink.

Now our conversation has moved into the sleep schedule of Kevin’s newborn. Yep, got it. Again. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s exciting to hear about the baby and all the new adventures and see the pictures. I’m delighted for them – honest! However when you’re hosting the person at your house you can only hear the same stories so many times before your eyeballs start to bleed.

I tried talking to my better half, however he’s hard of hearing and being in a loud bar….well, you can imagine. I have to lean in and talk into his ear. Which makes me think people are wondering if we’re talking about them. Not that I give a crap. I’ve been looking for one of those old fashioned ear cones they used to use in the dark ages for when you were hard of hearing. Then it wouldn’t be so obvious…you think?

Finally, our table is ready. Now I’m pondering….I could say I’m going to the bathroom and then wander out to the car. I could sleep in the backseat. I’m dog tired. Partly because my Mom, along with our family on the east coast, woke us up at 4:00AM to warn us about the tsunami hitting Alaska. We didn’t get squat in Juneau, I’m thankful.

At the table, I request an end seat for quick escape and order another vodka/tonic. By this point in the evening I’m so tired I’m thinking I’ll injure myself if I have to use a steak knife for anything.

Now that we’re in the restaurant, in a corner booth, there’s no mental escape. We turned out to only be a group of six. Surprise, surprise. The conversation goes into guess what topic….babies. Out of the six people at the table only one has a baby – Kevin.

Tracy wanted to know what names they had picked out if it was a girl? Kevin said they hoped for a girl, but a boy was planted and you can only imagine their excitement. Kevin, bless his heart, again explained how life changing and exhausting it is to have a baby. We just can’t imagine. I’m thinking to myself: buddy, there’s a reason I don’t have any kids…because they are so exhausting – I’m not stupid. Review again the sleep schedule and waking schedule and feeding schedule.

Next up it was about how Kevin has to help his wife Martha as he’s unable to breast feed, but she does use the pump, so he can do bottle feeding. Tracy and Mary agreed that is the time to really bond with your baby during bottle time. Kevin spoke about how he has to now help around the house and he’s not used to that, but Martha is really focused on the baby so it the best he can do.

Would it have been rude to bring a book? How about a laptop? I take out my notebook and make a note about this evening for this blog entry.

Tracy talked about how mutual friends of ours just had a baby and they’re not letting any parents in to see the newborn for three weeks, so they can establish a routine. Everyone agrees this is a good idea and Mary confirms she’s already told her mother about it. Mary continues on about how they’re ready to have kids and can’t wait. She has always wanted a Pointer Deluxe Carriage or whatever it is and can’t wait to get started. John, her husband, who is 15 years older, just looks at her, smiles and gives her a kiss on the head.

Next up the details of the delivery. Really? Again. Second time tonight actually. Where’s the popcorn? Tracy talks about how her husband doesn’t want her to go through all that pain, which is why they haven’t had kids yet. Personally, I think they probably haven’t given up smoking pot yet. Then she shares a story about a friend of her’s delivery and I start to fondle my fork….if I jerk it up fast enough maybe I can stab my neck with it…make it look like an accident.

The meal arrives and I can’t hardly finish the Cobb Salad, I’m exhausted from all the energetic baby talk. Yet all I can think is: where’s the avocado? I don’t care at this point. Another friend joins the group and announces they’re expecting their second baby in August. Yeah everyone! My better half announces our neighbor, who everyone knows, is due in September. Yeah everyone! Since someone new has joined the table, Kevin is obligated to review the exhausting life changing events of having a baby and the feeding, sleeping, waking, pumping, diaper changing schedule. Now I’m thinking, if we don’t get out of here soon I’m going to strangle myself with my shoestring….right here at the table.

Tracy actually says at one point to Kevin….”Don’t you wonder what you talked about before you had your baby? We can’t figure out what we talked about before we got our dog!”

It’s 9:30PM and time for us to go. We get in the car and before Kevin gets in I say to my better half, “I’m going to shoot myself if I have to listen to any more baby stories.” He’s like, “really?” I’m thinking he didn’t hear half of the conversations because his hearing is bad. For me, I’d rather go to the dentist then listen to 3.5 hours of baby stories.

Kevin gets in the car and tells us when he comes back to Juneau for our tourism convention in October, he’s going to bring the wife and baby so everyone can see them….would it be possible to stay with us?

I start to untie my shoe.

Sleepless in the Serengeti

I love to sleep.
Curled up under soft, fluffy blankets.
Toasty warm and drifting off into a blissful wonderland of dreams.
There’s one problem – I’m not very good at it.
I’m like a cat with a sleep disorder.

Sure, I may be tired when I get into bed but as soon as my head hits the pillow, my brain lights up like Times Square. Thoughts pop into my head on jumbo-trons. I’ve got stupid stuff running through my brain like the NYSE ticker and it’s 99% pointless gibberish.

“Don’t forget to call the office to check messages….maybe I should do that now…..I have to look up that eggnog french toast recipe….I could do that now…..Should we have mimosas on Christmas morning? I like mimosas. That would be good. Do we have champagne? We’ll have to get champagne. Well I need wrapping paper. Maybe I should get that at Costco…..and I could get the champagne too. Did I shut the garage door? I should go look. I’m sure I shut it. Damn, is he sleeping already? How does he do that? Annoying. What gifts do I have left to get for Christmas? My iTouch is right here, let me just see if I can Google that eggnog french toast recipe. I need to send out the holiday cards. Well, I really need to organize my files. Should I use the computer labels or the Brother labels for the manila files? The Brother labels would be easier but the computer ones are nicer. I need to get another banker box. I could stop at the office supply store on the way to Costco. I don’t think I need to get the wrapping paper at Costco, that’ll be enough for three years. Wonder where the cats are at? I could be a cat. If I could sleep. Maybe in my next life I could be a cat. A well taken care of cat. With a fluffy coat. And diamond collar. And weekly manicures. In a house with lots of sunshine. Is he snoring? Seriously. Shut it. You’re already sleeping – now you’re just rubbing it in. Oh, here’s the cats. One cat, two cat. Yeah, everyone is in bed. Tater, giant dog we’re watching for friends, is on the floor. This is nice. I could read my book. Glad I bought the Nook – I can read in the dark. But reading would defeat the sleeping agenda. I don’t want to miss the sleep window. Maybe I could try deep breathing. (after 6 breaths) This is stupid. That lady at the grocery looked stupid in that outfit today. Should’ve snapped a photo. Mental note: put phone in pocket for quicker access. Why do people think pajama pants are acceptable outside wear? In winter? With a fake fur coat? And rain boots? With ducks on them? Ahhh, the small cat is happily purring away….she’s so sweet. I love her. I love her purr. She’s so snugly soft. She’s sleeping. She’s so cute. What the hell was that? Sounded like a lion. We don’t have lions in Alaska. Oh, the dog. He’s snoring. I swear I felt the bed rumble. Maybe that was my better half farting. If I didn’t know the dog was in the bedroom I’d swear there was another man in here. Oh big cat is sleeping now. That’s nice. She must be dreaming. Sounds like a duck quaking. Or maybe a small dog toy that squeaks when you press it. That’s what she sounds like. I should write that down. The squeaker. Seriously, better half, could you hold down the snoring? Damn. Yes, I know you’re sleeping. As soon as your head hits the pillow you’re sleeping. What’s that like? Stop. Snoring. Now. Shut It. Quiet. Shhhhh! You’re very loud. Seriously. Shut up! Where are my ear plugs?”

Before putting in my ear plugs I listen to the sounds of the bedroom:
One small cat purring contentedly.
One large cat dreaming of being a duck in another lifetime.
One homo sapien snoring like elephant with a sinus issue.
One giant dog who sounds suspiciously like a lion.
One sleepless chick whose brain activity sounds like a freight train.

Blink. Blink. Blink.
Sleepless in the Serengeti.