The Avocado

A cat from the neighborhood has wandered inside the house twice in the past week. Since it's hot out and we go in the yard frequently, the door is sometimes ajar and apparently very inviting to cats. So this cat just walks in, scares everyone to death - "A cat in the house! AHH! Come look!" - and gets chased back out. My dad insists that cats carry bugs and are therefore diseased and should be chased out running with a stick, though everybody knows he grew up with many cats (he lived on a farm). My mother always sees the cat first, and always says "How impolite! It doesn't even knock before coming in!"

I think it's amusing and shocking to find a foreign animal walking casually on your kitchen counter. I am afraid to touch animals that are on a level above my waist - childhood near eye-gauging incident - so I stand a fair distance away and meow. This afternoon it jumped in my brother's oatmeal playbox (like sandbox, but not as dirty) and afraid that it might think it's an extra large kitten potty with fantastic trucks inside and pee, I shouted 'No!' and made elaborate arm gestures. It responded a little slowly - I wonder why - but eventually left the oatmeal (aka not sand or litter) alone. If the cat shits in my brother's play box, well, it won't be pretty. Next time it comes by for a visit I think I'll attach a ribbon with a message - while doning full protective gear of course.

I've been watching a lot of decorating shows on the W Network lately. I've always liked Candice Olson Divine Design, but I have started to watch shows like House Doctor, Debbie Travis Painted House, and other similar shows. I love the before and after shots and when the owners come in the made-over room for the first time (though I doubt that's the first time, because they can't possibly stay away from their kitchen/bedroom/family room for weeks) and shriek and jump and clap I shriek and jump and clap along with them.

I've been meaning to 'renovate' my room for a long time. It's not very practical, it lacks closed storage, and even if I pick everything off the floor it still looks messy. And Messy Makes Me Mad. Since the RCM exams are approaching, I will leave all the planning, drawing (Candice Olson has taught me important things) and purchasing to the middle of August. Everything I'm planning to do (ie lunch with friends, bedroom renovation, camping, shopping, haircut) has been set in the middle of August. August is feeling a lot of pressure right now. Let's see what happens.

Have you ever woken up not being able to move a single muscle, and as you lie there trying to decide whether to get up or to go back to sleep, and having trouble with both, you try hard to think back to the night before. Okay so maybe you were up until two in the morning reading some chick lit called BAD BOY, but you woke up late enough, and you don't even remember using your muscles the day before. Unlike school days, you don't have a tough day of studying ahead or even approaching deadlines, so why the soreness and the utter inability to move?

This morning was like that for me, and after much turning and adjusting the pillow so it can somehow accomidate my aching neck, I kicked the wall several times, found my remote control (the only thing I sleep with) under the covers, and listened to a song by Tribe Called Quest. Volume on high, announcing to my family and the neighborhood that I AM NOW UP, I slowly walked to the bathroom. One look in the mirror made me think of Halloween and the money I can save on a mask. Then I made a note to ask my mother for money for a haircut.

After exiting my room with much effort and with a purpose, I went downstairs. I had a goal, and I woke up for a reason. I woke up to eat.

Tonight I had a wonderful barbeque with my family in our backyard. My mother, brother and I went shopping for patties, buns and sauces while my dad prepared the grill at home. We brought a coffee table outside and had watermelon, slices of tomato, cucumber, and lettuce all ready. My dad guarded the grill flipped the burgers every 9 seconds. My four-year old brother got really involved too, bringing this and that, arranging the plates, and opening every bottle.

The barbeque was nice and peaceful. The burgers [cheese, sauce, and the works] were delicious, and it was a lot of fun, because rarely do we have barbeques by ourselves. I'm sure people miles away could smell it and were, no doubt, fuming with envy. Two or three bees flew around incessantly while we ate, but we simply waved them away everytime.

I was really happy and satisfied afterwards while putting things away and cleaning up. After putting dishes in the sink I turned around to find my mother coming in with more plates. and she started to tell me how bees must be really stupid because while she was stacking plates, a bee got stuck in between one of them. She held up the stack of plates, I guess for me to see, but I didn't notice and chuckled lightly and prepared to go back outside. Because the stack of plates was right in front of my eyes, I couldn't help but quickly glance at them and my eyes suddenly locked on the dead bee squeezed in between the plates, its furry head and bulging eyes staring right at me. I shrieked loudly, leaped back, and started to jump up and down with my hands covering my face.

I cannot stand the sight of squished insects, and cannot squish bugs between napkins without shuddering. I used to be able to, and used to do it for fun, but I've aged and I can't anymore. The unexpected sight of a stupid squished bee, in between my PLATES, was extremely disturbing. I stood there moaning and flapping my arms around for a while. I couldn't get the image out of my head so I started to slap my head.

I'm okay now, I think. I hope the bee doesn't come to haunt me.

I started taking antibiotics last Thursday, and the bottle had stickers with intructions like "should be taken with PLENTY of water", "take medication on EMPTY STOMACH'', ''do not take dairy products, antacids, or iron preparations within ONE HOUR of this medication'' and ''prolonged or excessive exposure to direct and/or artificial sunlight SHOULD BE AVOIDED''. Since I had to take the pills twice a day, it was quite an inconvenience. My mother suggested I wake up early in the morning, take the pills, and go back to sleep. I decided not to do that.

In the first week, I felt nauseous, tired and had little appetite, all of which was unusual. My mother suggested I read the piece of paper that came with the medicine, but I've always depended on the little stickers on the bottle, so I didn't see the point. Nevertheless, I found the paper and read it. I was surprised at the amount of information and extra directions written. I was not allowed to lie down half an hour after taking the medicine (good thing I didn't wake up early to take it), and nausea, loss of appetite, headaches are common side effects. So now I find out. In addition, they give the minimum amount of water to be taken, and it turns out to be only a cup. I had thought that 'plenty' meant drink until you're ready to puke, and alas, that is what I did. Lesson learned: read everything that comes with the medicine.

Mcdonalds has cheap cheeseburgers on Thursdays so I bought four and brought it home to share with my brother and his friends. After handing one to my brother and his friend I rushed inside, sat down, took a deep breath, and ate two cheeseburgers with a level concentration budhist monks would envy. Afterwards I sat there happily and lazily looked at the clock, 12:45. Opps! I took the antibiotics at 12pm, and was supposed to wait until 1pm to eat.

I've always rolled my eyes at popscicles with two popsicle sticks. Are some people unable to hold on to it with just one piece of wood? Are we supposed to split it and offer one to our crushes? How nauseating. Besides, once you split it, it's too small to enjoy.

Today I realized the sheer brilliance of 'double' popsicles. My family purchased a box, and though I wasn't a huge fan of the flavor, it was in my fridge, less than five meters away, so I helped myself. I split it, never to be seen holding on to two sticks, and finished one in no time. My natural responce was 'oh man, it's done already. I really want another one'. And by golly, there was another one right in front of me! I felt so happy, and quickly ate the other one. So that's what they're for.

Other than being blinder than the average person, there is one bad thing about being an avid reader. Because I have read the works of many great writers, I am familiar with excellent literature and know good writing when I see it. I appreciate flowing sentences and love beautiful prose. When I read the draft of my essay this morning, I knew it was bad. As I said, I know good writing when I see it and my essay wasn't one of them. So I threw that away and started another one. Slightly better, but still far from what I want.

Happy Canada Day everyone. Go out and skin some beavers. Uh, just kidding.