CASSIE'S OPINION: THE DEBATES

Hi, evvyone! It's me CAssie again. (And I'm sorry my selfie is not so very good.)

First, thank you for liking my Blog last week!! The only problim is, Mom said more peeple red it than they red any of hers, so I think she's a little bit of upset about that. But I didn't mean anything bad. And the good news is, now I know I don't have to pick between her and Dad! And thank you for liking my Pome, too. Mom said that three of you told her it made  you cry a little. I was kind of supprised, but I guess Pomes about Milky Bones and goose poops would make me cry, also.

Anyhow, I wazn't going to write for a long time because I didn't want Mom to feel sad if you liked me more again, but she's been throwing things around for about an houR now so I know she's not going to finnish the Blog she was writting for you. I'm not exacly sure what happened. Her and Dad was sitting on the Couch watching TV peeple, like they always do at night now that Dad doesn't go out any more to play with his Poking Cards. Usually they just sit there until one of them starts snoring or they find out who the next Head of Household is on Big Brother.

But tonight there was some kind of speshul Show on, I guess. It had only 3 peeple on it, but they were all barking and growling at each other. And I mean, they were barking and growling a LOT! Then after just a little bit of time Mom was yelling too, or making little screechy sounds, or just wrapping her arms around her head and whimpering, "Make it stop!" And Dad just kept staring and staring and staring. And then Mom said that maybe they should make the TV peeple go away because her heart was pounding to hard and she couldn't breathe. But Dad said no, it was kind of like watching Succession or Ozark and he wanted to see if anyone was going to get Killed.

So I started looking at the TV peeple more closer, because I was mad that they were making Mom and Dad crazy. And I will tell you what I think. I think that those peeple rilly, RILLY need a good trainer. They need to learn "STOP," and "NO," and "DOWN," and "QUIET!" And that little sitting one with the glasses needs to learn how to control the standing-up ones. Like maybe he should have a water bottle so he can spray them when they don't listen. Or maybe they should have shock collars. And if somone gets rilly bad and makes a mess, then the glasses man has to be ready to rub their nose in it. It worked with me and poop.

So that's what I think.

Anyhow, Mom and Dad look a little better now and Dad bought Mom an Oreo to calm her down. But I'm going to have to keep both of my eyes on them. And if these TV peeple show up again, I'm going to steel the clicker and bury it.

Cassie

A DOG'S BLOG

(No, this is not a heartwarming movie starring Dennis Quaid and a Labrador Retriever. This is a blog written by my dog, which I shall immediately regret agreeing to publish.)

Hello, Hoomans! My name is Cassie and I was in one of my Mom's earlier blogs. I was the pikture where everyone said "Ohmigosh, what a cute dog!" Which I really am, I mean, look at me.

Anyhow, I will start by telling you that I am going to be yoor Gest Blogger today. I am doing this because Mom had to get her back fixed on MOnday and since then she has been eating a lot of little white treats that she calls Happy Pills, and they make her lie on the Couch for many hours with drool coming out of her mouth. And so I desided I would be nice and do her blog for her which I can beCause GoogleTranslate now has a Mikeyfone and a Dog Bark Option.

Also, I kind of need some Advise and I was thinking you could help me with it. I herd Mom and Dad talking the other day and Mom was saying (again!!!) how they really should move to a new Howse, but then Dad said they tried that once and it didn’t work, and so that was a sign that he was supposed to stay in his comfy room with all his HObbies and his steeming videos for the rest of his life. And that's  When Mom said how she could arrange for a hit man if necessary. 

So now I'm a little scared. I don't think Mom rilly would Hire someone to hit Dad, even if she had a creepy smile when she said it, but I may end up having to decide which of them I want to live with if she moves away! And here is my thinking on this.

First, I don't think either of them would do very Good without the other of them, because Dad and Mom are in charge of different Things in the howse. Like, if I lived only with Dad, he would never have clean Clothes because he is scared of the Washing Mashine and the Drying Mashine. And if I lived only with Mom, all her Plates and Glassis would be crusty because she is afraid of the Dishwashing Mashine. She would also never have soap or paper towels or toilet paper because Dad is a very good hunter-and-gatherer and Mom is afraid of Costco.

But I'm not really so worried about them. I'm worried about ME!! Here's why, for an example. If Mom was not around, OUTSIDE would disappear! This is a true fact. Dad does not like to be in OUTSIDE exsept for at Costco, where he is very brave, or when he goes out to kill little white balls with his clubbing sticks. And no OUTSIDE means that I would not get any walks, which also means that there would be little poops and pee stains all around the howse. (Akshully, I think Dad and I would both be okay with that because we'd just pretend we don't see them, which is kind of what we do now.)

But if I was living only with Mom, I would starve and die because another true fact is that she always forgets to feed me and give me water.Dad does that.  And Dad is also the one who sneeks me treats and string cheese and beef jerky all the time until Mom tells him to stop or I’ll get fat. But you know what? Fat would be okay, too, because then I'd have a nice round tummee just like Dad!!  And speaking of tummees, if Dad was not here I wouldn't get those yummly belly rubs and skritches because Mom doesn't know how to do those good. And she gets bored of it too fast. But Dad NEVER gets bored of it!

Of course, one thing I WOULD miss if Mom was not here is the rilly good smells she makes when she's sitting and thinking in the special sitting-and-thinking room, the one with the sink and the neat white chair with all the water inside. I always like to go in next to her when she's thinking and just sniff. Dad shuts the door when he's thinking, but I bet he makes nice smells, too. And I bet I could train him to leave the door open. PROBLIM SOLVED!

(To read about Cassie's final decision, click page 2)

So never mind, Hoomans! I have figured out my own advise. I will stay with Dad. And I will give him this pome from my heart to tell him so.

P.S. Take THAT, Dennis Quaid!!! I can break hearts, to.

P.P.S. Dad just read this and said I won't ever have to choose. So that's a releef!

Cassie 

Gest Blogger

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NEW ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING

Although we were a little worried at first, I am happy to report that my husband and I are finally getting the hang of this whole "grandparenting" thing. Not that we were ever terrible. I mean, we did raise three kids of our own, and none of them have yet sued us for malpractice. But a lot has changed since then, and frankly, someone should have forced us to take a refresher course.

Take the first time our son and his wife asked us to babysit Grandchild Number 1. This was a serious error in judgment on their part, possibly attributable to weeks of sleep deprivation. That would also explain why, when we walked in the door, they hurled the baby at us and raced frantically for their car.

Wait a minute!" we called after them. "Any special instructions?"

"They're taped to his forehead," our son shouted. And then they were gone.

The baby immediately began to cry. We stared at him, disconcerted.

"Okay," I said. "Let's not panic. I seem to recall that crying means they're either hungry, or tired, or have a dirty diaper." My husband nodded and peeled the instructions from the baby's head.

"It says here that if the stripe on the diaper is blue, it needs changing."

"There's a stripe?" I unsnapped the baby's onesie and peered at the diaper. There was indeed a stripe, and it was definitely blue. "Wow," I whispered, awestruck. "It's... it's like a miracle."

My husband, though, was afraid to feel too hopeful. "Does it turn blue just for pee? Or does it show...?" I looked at him compassionately. See, he'd never recovered from the time our own firstborn had a truly epic "blowout" while I was at work, and my husband was alone with the baby. When I got home, I found the poor guy huddled on the floor next to the changing table, rocking back and forth and muttering, "The horror. The horror."

As it turns out, this diaper was just wet. "Okay," I said. "So the directions say we're now supposed to apply...butt paste." 

"What the hell is that?" But there it was, right in front of us. A container labeled Butt Paste. The stuff inside looked like spackle, and next to it was what appeared to be a little blue putty knife. My husband examined it.

"So, is this why there wasn't any poop? Are they trying to seal the hole up permanently?" Perhaps remembering the blow-out episode he added, "That would be a very good thing."

"Okay, but what's this?" I picked up a box labeled NoseFrida Snot Sucker. 

Curious, I read the directions: When your baby has a stuffed nose, simply place the tip of the snot straw just below its nostril. Put the mouthpiece in your own mouth and then gently suck out the snot. I threw the box down, horrified. "THIS IS THE MOST TWISTED THING I'VE EVER SEEN!"                    

The challenges continued. Play mats that had more lights and buttons and switches than most aircrafts, and that were impossible to turn off.  Bottle warmers that didn't warm bottles.  Swaddling instructions that required me to ask both Siri and Alexa for help.  

And then, finally, it was bedtime. Unfortunately, not for us. We went to the bedroom and put the baby in his Zippity-Zip, a soft potato-sack-like sleep garment that I secretly found myself coveting. Then we turned on the white-noise machine per the instructions, aimed the baby-cam in his direction, and dragged ourself back to the couch where we collapsed and turned on the baby monitor.

That was our biggest mistake. Baby monitor videos are creepy, like something out of a Paranormal Activity movie. Jerky movements. Sudden terrifying disappearances when the kid rolls out of camera range. The damned, maddening white noise. And you find that you can't look away. 'Cause you know if you do, the evil spirits will come and take over the baby's soul. So we clutched each other and just...kept...staring.

That's how the kids found us when they got home.  They gently peeled us off the couch and tucked us tenderly into our car. After a few minutes, my husband turned to me. "We gonna do this again?"

I paused. "Maybe. But I’m gonna need my own Zippity-Zip."

HOW TO GET ORGANIZED

The truth is, I have no idea. I mean, I'd like to tell you that I am an INCREDIBLY well organized person, but I can't, because I'm not. So in recent years, especially as my brain has begun to atrophy, I've tried to use as many established organizational techniques as possible to prevent myself from losing control altogether. 

Unfortunately, there have been issues with each of these methods.

1. KEEP CALENDARS UP TO DATE.

This is a basic strategy, but I'm sorry to report I do not manage it well. I'm pretty sure the calendar in my kitchen is accurate, give or take a few birthdays and my next colonoscopy appointment. But that calendar never seems to match the one on my phone. Or the paper calendar I keep in my purse for the times that I forget my phone. 

2. MAKE LISTS. 

I love lists. I love to make them and I love to cross things off of them. I even add items that are already completed just to have the pleasure of scratching them out. I keep lists on note pads, lists on my phone's reminder app, lists on computer sticky notes, lists on the side of the refrigerator, and lists on the backs of whatever envelopes have recently come in the mail. The problem is, I have no idea which list is where, so they're all pretty much useless.

3. HAVE A PLACE FOR EVERYTHING. 

I suspect I need to work on this a bit. For example, I recently found a hammer and a screwdriver in my bathroom drawer, which may explain why there are a couple bottles of Redken shampoo and several cakes of Irish Spring soap in the garage. Otherwise, I follow the "place for everything" tip pretty well. 

• The place for unclaimed mail and outdated Bed, Bath, and Beyond coupons is on the Lazy Susan on the kitchen table. 
• The place for old newspapers is on the floor by my husband's desk. 
• The place for my grandson's toys is all over the house.

4. CHECK AND DOUBLE CHECK. 

I learned the importance of this a few years ago when I purchased 8 tickets to a New Year's Eve show and found out, after our group arrived, that the tickets were for the previous night's performance. But double-checking has not really helped, either. For example, I recently double-checked the destination and date for some airline tickets as I bought them, but I did NOT remember to hit "confirm order." Because of this, we nearly missed the bris of our grandson in Scottsdale. Luckily, he turned out to be a girl. 

5, KEEP A NOTE PAD BY YOUR BED. 

This is supposed to allow you to capture all of the Very Important Thoughts that pop into your brain just as you're falling asleep or when you wake up in the middle of the night-- the ones that you know are essential for you to attend to the next day. As near as I can make out, my tasks for today are 

And yes, these are real. Extra credit if you can figure them out, since I couldn't.    

6. FINISH ONE TASK BEFORE MOVING ON TO THE NEXT.

I'm okay with this if "one task" means leaving the the TV show I'm watching to head to the laundry room when the dryer buzzes, but first stopping to let the dog out, and then looking at some stuff on TikTok while I wait for the dog, and then running to the den to show my husband the funny video I found of a swimming squirrel, which reminds me to go back to the kitchen to let the dog in, which requires cleaning up the mud the dog tracks in, after which I finally head back to my TV show. Feeling that I may have forgotten something.   

7. USE DOWN TIME WISELY. 

This is especially important during quarantine, when almost all time is down time. So I was quite proud of the fact that, after exhibiting true dedication and determination, I reached Level 527 of Papa Pear.  But then I found my husband had reached Level 2745 on Cookie Jam, and I'm feeling greatly discouraged.   

That's enough for this blog, I suppose. I had some more tips, but I can't find that list.

ME AND MY DIET

In these times of reduced physical activity and increased dependence on comfort foods, diet and exercise are more important than ever. But let me be clear: I'm violently against both.

Now, I'm not against them in theory. In fact, I've actually tried each of them multiple times, often motivated by something like this online ad:

Lose 20 Pounds in One Week!

Unfortunately, both diet and exercise, at least in my experience, are synonymous with disappointment and despair. Take dieting, for instance. Every night, I brush my teeth, wash off what passes for make-up these days, and stare at my unvarnished, roundish face in the mirror. I shake my finger sternly in my direction and tell myself, in no uncertain terms, that the next day will NOT be a repeat of the one that just ended. Feeling thoroughly chastised, I head to bed, confident that I will soon be jogging down the road that leads to being a svelte, attractive woman with only one chin.

 

Here's what actually happens.

 

Morning: I wake up and take a quick shower to rinse off any dead skin cells that might have collected on me overnight and which could adversely affect my weighing-in. Next, I ease myself onto the scale, hoping that a slow and careful ascent will trick the internal weighing mechanism into not registering my full poundage. Finally, I put my hands over my face, squeeze my eyelids nearly shut, and peer down at the scale from between my fingers. This increases my chances of misreading the numbers and/or gives me an opportunity to quickly look away if the last two digits appear to be too upsetting.

 

Breakfast: Diet experts have informed us that a healthy breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It gives us much-needed energy and cuts down on cravings. With that in mind, I take one of the following approaches to the meal. I either have two scrambled egg whites made with Pam, a "light" Thomas's English Muffin, and a teaspoon of orange juice; OR, I ignore the whole "important meal" theory, figuring that if I don't eat breakfast I will be justified in having a skinny TKY at Potbelly's for lunch, along with two mini oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies.

 

Morning Snacks: The diet experts who recommend the "healthy breakfast" thing have also suggested that it's good to eat several smaller meals or snacks during the day to reduce the possibility of triggering hunger pangs. This idea of constant snacking is, I feel, absolutely brilliant. That's why I make certain to have healthy, lo-cal snacks close at hand. An apple, for instance. Yogurt. Celery. And then, several days later, I throw out their wasted, rotted remains.

Lunch: See Option 2 under "Breakfast."

Afternoon Snacks: All right, fine. I obviously slip up a bit during lunch, a problem I attribute to the failure of the healthy morning snacks routine. So for my post-noon snacks, I usually decide to indulge in something I really like; for example, all but one bite of a thick slice of chocolate cake. This choice may seem surprising, but many of us once learned--and fervently choose to believe--that 95% of calories reside in the last bite of any chocolate-based food. Besides, I'm quite certain that the calories I do eat are canceled out by the Diet Coke I drink to wash them down.

Dinner: I'm sure you would agree that it would be thoughtless of me to deprive my family of a satisfying meal just because I'm trying to control my own caloric intake. So we always have a nice dinner, but one that allows me to keep my own dietary needs in the forefront.  For example, we might have a plant-based dinner (my Vegan son would be so proud!), often in the form of several large cartons of carry-out from New Golden Dragon. Or, perhaps we have a good thick steak, because not all of those high-protein, low-carb diets could have been wrong and, honestly, why restrict myself to one approach to dieting when there are so many to choose from?

 

Evening and Late-Night: Dietitians also warn that one should not eat anything after 8:00. This assumes, though, that the "one" they are referring is not so lacking in will power that she has been reduced to having her husband hide packages of Evil Oreos around the house and doling out a single cookie every night as a treat. It also assumes that this same individual does not wear out a path from the family room to the kitchen while binge-watching Ozark or inhaling Shark Tank reruns. On a recent evening, this path led to my consuming three King's Hawaiian Bread rolls, a few pretzel rods, leftover egg foo young, and a half-dozen cookies that I only discovered after a frenzied search of the house when my husband ran out to Walgreens to pick up some Advil that I told him I desperately needed. 

All was not lost, however. Thanks to one of the old Shark Tank episodes, I learned about the Skinny Mirror, which makes the user look ten pounds lighter. Kevin O'Leary and the other Sharks condemned the product as a deception and refused to invest. I, however, cried out in anguish at this loss to society and immediately hit eBay in search of one. It should arrive any day now.

Minions of the Evil Oreos:

the Hershey Kisses of Death