Getting his tomcat swagger on


Pazzo is driving us nuts because, somewhere in our neighborhood, there is a female cat in heat.

The crying and meowing and the plaintive looks out the back door are annoying as all get out, because he wants some.

Every male cat I’ve ever had has been fixed by the time they were Pazzo’s age (about 2 yrs old), so I didn’t go thru this before.

“Ms. Thang”, as I’ve taken to calling her, is out there and Pazzo and every other unaltered male cat can smell her. She may not even be someone’s pet, but some stray hussy looking for a good time.

And we’re trying not to be the owners of the cat who knocks her up.

He’s been very aggressive lately, which is so unlike him. He runs around the house like the law is after him, and those little love nips of his actually hurt!

Pazzo is on lockdown until Ms. Thang goes out of season. We will have a very miserable & disagreeable cat on our hands for a while.

Oh. Joy.


I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

I’d rather spend a 100°F day watching someone hit a golf ball into a little hole

…than think about moving. Again.

We (me, my sister and brother in law) have decided to sell Mom’s house this fall, which means that Daniel, Jeff and I will have to move.

Daniel is okay with it (moving, that is). Jeff is not on board, yet. He’d rather get his own place and not have to live with me or his brother. Problem with that is that he hasn’t been saving his pennies to make that possible.

I don’t particularly want to live with them either, seeing that they’re both well into adulthood, but for now we really don’t have a choice. Unless I get a job locally that pays enough for me to live on my own again. Meanwhile…

The house is just too much upkeep, too expensive to maintain, too much of everything- bitchy neighbors, homeowner association crap, the freakin’ lawn…we finally had to say enough! So now we’re looking at apartments.

Packing up all our stuff, downsizing, purging things we don’t need (which is more for D and J to deal with more than me…all I have to get rid of is my now too big wardrobe)…the whole idea of it makes me ill. But it has to be done.

And if I could afford to buy the damn house, I’d do it. Then fix it up and rent it out. After all, it’s Mom’s house!

What was Chase bank thinking 14 years ago when they gave my 71 year old mother a 30 year mortgage? That she’d live to 100? She didn’t even make it to her 83rd birthday (she passed three weeks shy of it.). It still flabbergasts me that they were able to do that!

Selling the house though will be bittersweet. Daniel and Jeff have lived there half their lives (the last 12  years of Mom’s life and the two years since she died)! They’ve never lived in apartments as adults. It will be a huge transition for them.

And wherever we end up, they have to allow Daniel to keep Pazzo. That’s non negotiable. The cat stays in the picture. Period.

All this is sigh inducing, to say the least. But I’m ready for the change of residence. However temporary it is.

Oh how I hate moving, though!

I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Wow…just wow

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’ve lost as much weight as my nephew Joey weighs. I am now 90lbs. from my ultimate goal and 25lbs. from the goal I recently reset to reach by my next birthday.

This just blows my mind!

When I started this journey, I knew it would take a while. After all, I didn’t put this weight on overnight, so it wasn’t going to come off overnight.

Most of it I’ve lost in just the last five months. My birthday was 5 months ago, and my little trip to the hospital was just a couple of days after my birthday. I still eat like a bird, bruise like a rotten banana, and don’t sleep well unless I’m exhausted.

I still need a good exercise plan…one that will strengthen my core, improve my stamina, and get me into shape. Oh, and develop better eating habits. I think that’s why my skin is so dry and my hair  refuses to cooperate.

I need new clothes. Something inexpensive, durable, and presentable for job interviews, but they have to be reflective of who I am as a person. Just because I’m 50 years old doesn’t mean I have to look it.

I’m even willing to haunt thrift stores for jeans and tops.

Now, to deal with all this saggy skin. My skin is even too big for me! Go figure!


I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Dust in the Wind

I saw pictures taken in some mountains out west somewhere that were strikingly beautiful, it made me realize we are just some blip on the cosmic radar screen.

Life on this planet has been going on for millions of years before I showed up, and will go on for millions of years after I breathe my last, and my life, however long it lasts, is just a small drop in an endless sea.

In the grand scheme of things, my struggles, my problems, my triumphs and failures, are really insignificant, aren’t they? Yet, the are the center of my personal universe. How does one reconcile that with all of everything and everyone that has ever existed?

Maybe you don’t. Maybe I’ll never have the answers to that. Maybe I should stop waxing philosophical and just live my life.

Like hell…

I’ve always lived my life as I saw fit, and will continue on that course, no matter how many people I piss off. Maybe I don’t live my life like everyone else. As a popular meme states: “I tried normal once, worst (insert appropriate amount of time here) of my life.”

But these pictures I saw… Natures beauty simply astounds me. I’d like to keep it that way and not spoil it. There are conservationists, tree huggers, and biologists working right now to save all that precious beauty. I wish I could help in that regard in more ways than making sure that trash makes it into the trash can and recycle, reduce and reuse as much as possible. I’m not a biologist, but I can do my part…whatever that is.

Life…is just so much dust in the wind.

(and for those of us in a certain age range, cue up that Kansas song!)


I’m Stef, and this is where it’s @ !~


I’m intimidated by very few people, but there are some who do scare the bejeezus out of me.

And I wonder why I let these few individuals rent space in my head…like their opinion of me actually matters? They have, for reasons of their own, presented themselves as unapproachable, unyielding, and judgemental.  I’ve actually labelled such folks in my head as “elitist snobs”.

Yet, I allow them to intimidate me.

I know I’m better than that. Their opinion doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The Elitist Snobs can’t think outside the very confined box they placed themselves in. And that’s too bad. They don’t have to sit in judgement of everyone that doesn’t meet with their approval. That’s their choice.

I refuse to be cowed by them any more. I have better things to do than try to change their minds.

If they want to get to know and/or understand me, that’s up to them. I’m done.


I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

Meanwhile, on the bus…

This past Wednesday I was on my way home on the bus when this chick starts to get on and laments that one of her flip flops broke.

Then I saw what she was wearing.

Tiny top, short shorts, way too much makeup, hair seriously teased.

Honey, no one is going to care about your broken flip flop. They’re way too busy looking at your chest and your ass to pay your feet any mind.

Ah yes…summer in Edmond, America.

I need to get out of here!


I’m Stef and this is where it’s @ !~

I don’t know which is worse…

Not eating anything after breakfast and feeling like crud, or eating something and having my abdomen swell up like a balloon for hours…and still feeling like crud.

Scott asked me, “Well, Mom, what makes you feel less like crud? You have to eat.”

Neither prospect feels good, I told him.

Have I mentioned that I can’t stand the sight of pizza? Try telling my boys that I need to eat better. What usually happens is that I’ll get all the healthy stuff, and being the only one who eats it. Jeff is getting pudgy, and could stand to slim down. He’s also the one who gets the most exercise because he walks everywhere.

Meanwhile, I’ve lost 77 lbs, most of that since I was hospitalized in February. But this bloating thing is driving me mad!

Time to call the doctor again, I think.

Oh. Joy.

One day soon, I fear, I’ll be making a return trip to the hospital. I’m still bruising like a rotten banana. That feeling like I’m having a heart attack feeling is NOT something I wish to repeat. Ever.

I still need to get that colonoscopy, though.

Gee, ain’t life grand?


I’m Stef, and this is where it’s @ !~