Had a little scare tonight. Reese got stuck in his collar, which he has always hated, and was hoping around yowling and kind of freaked me out. For any of you unaware of what Siamese yowling is like, well its loud. This is their normal 'talking' voice and if you aren't prepared it sounds like they are hurt anyway. Anyway, I was afraid to touch him because I didn't know if he would lash out so I yelled for Husband. He held him still and I cut the offensive collar off. Luckily, the thing was made out of flexy stuff that was cuttable.

So Reese is happy as a clam without the thing but I don't like it because the last cat that got out, Sam, had no collar yet was microchipped and we still don't have him back. I would die if this one got away and wandered off somewhere (well the last one bolted of somewhere!). Reese seems more like my other kitty's as far as interest in the outdoors goes. He might look around but I think he'd rather be in Mommy's lap. Don't want to test that though.

Found out how much a grown man can be a baby tonight. Husband had that visit with notorious weirdo Dr., got a tetanus shot like I did and got put on blood pressure meds for the first time in his life (seems like they hand it out like candy now, ya know?!) Anyhow, whichever combination, plus his migraines he is a big sick baby. He eats dinner and literally puts his head down on the table. So I said why don't you go upstairs and get our movie ready (The Heathers. I think Husband had an attack of nostalgia and wanted to see it. It's disturbing, especially when you think of Columbine and you realize those kids wore the long coat like Christian Slater in The Heathers, and everybody assumed it was from The Matrix. Very chilling. But, I digress) So I'm doing stuff and he keeps hollering for a blanket, and his water and I don't know what all. When I don't immediately respond (the door to my blogging room is reinforced for a reason, ya know?) he starts yelling at the top of his lungs. So I informed I was not his lackey, and that I will get it eventually. Meanwhile, I 'fixed' his bank account, ordered flowers for HIS mother for Mother's Day and discovered that TOday was his mother's birthday and had to cajole him to call his own mother. The benefit is that his parents KNOW that he is not capable of doing these things on his own, and therefore Tart looks good. The price we (I) pay for M/FIL love.

As they said on the first Oscar's (held at a hotel in Hollywood) "We don't wait till people are dead to give them flowers." (Yes, I read every word of my People Magazine Book on Hollywood, with Elizabeth Taylor on the front. It is a sickness.

On that note, don't forget, Sunday is the day to be nice to your Mom. Give her flowers people. Not to be morbid, but better now than on her grave. Seriously.