Little Miss Muffet I Ain't!

So I was minding my own business at work the other day (pardon the pun), when I notice a big black spider come walking into my office. I mean it even used the door! I was half expecting it to pull up a chair and start talking protocols with me. Anyhoo, he was comin' straight for me so naturally I stopped typing and went about formulating a plan for its demise. The little sucker was moving fast for cover and it was too late to step on it.


I still had him in my sights but he was conveniently wedged against a wall under some cords. So I waited, ever so patiently, for him to make a move. He made a move alright, but it was under my filing cabinet, and I could hear him mocking me. Next tactic, play hard-to-get. "That's right spider, just make yourself at home. I don't care if you're here, whatevs." I turned my back and continued typing. (typey, typey, type, don't look, just keep typing...) He bought it! He came out! I went to grab my handy plastic ruler, intending to slap it to death. By the time I grabbed the death stick, he had once again wedged himself into an unreachable area of my office. Dang arachnid! I can't let him win. So the next time that little eight-legged freak appeared, I made no mistake. With one swift movement, I spun around in my steno chair and stepped on it. For good measure, I dragged my foot across the floor, smearing his icky spider guts. Ah ha! I won, and I did it without screaming like a girl.

Ok, so you're saying, "Yeah, so what? You killed a spider in your office. What's the big deal?" Well as Paul Harvey would say, "Here's the rest of the story..."

The next morning I went to have a shower. As I pulled back the shower curtain, there, in the pristine whiteness of the tub, was a huge black spider. I mean, this guy made the one in my office look like a gnat. Realizing his plight in not being able to escape the sleek confines of the tub, I quickly went to work drowning the nasty beast. I'll give him credit, he fought hard, frantically trying to climb the slippery sides. After a few swishes he turtled and peacefully slid down the drain with the water. Phew! Ok, spider #2, dead. I got this down! Again, with no girly screams. Just to be sure though, I ran the hot water for 5 minutes.


You know in movies like Gladiator and Troy when one side sends out their toughest, baddest dude to fight? Then when THAT guy comes back dead, they send out an even tougher and badder dude to avenge his death? Well, the next morning I went to take a shower and guess what was in my tub? A really, really, huge black spider! This was the guy they were sending out to avenge the death of yesterday's spider, I was sure. Ok, so there might have been a little yelp from me, but still no screaming. Judging from the size of him, I knew it would take more than daintily swishing water from my hand as I ran the drain. I needed a cup! I hit this guy with everything I had, cup after cup, and he hit back, moving those 8 legs in every direction, trying to avoid the liquid onslaught. It took close to a litre I'm sure but that sucker finally submitted to his fate and down towards the drain he slid. Boo yah! Again, just to be sure, I ran the hot water for 6 minutes this time.

It's been 2 days and so far, no more spiders in my tub. Ok, that's not true, there was a little one this morning, but he totally doesn't count. Although he could have been on reconnaissance, sent out to see what the heck happened to their army's two best warriors. Either way, I feel like I've sent my message, they know not to mess with this lady. Step aside Little Miss Muffet, I got this...

Red Rain... gotta love it! You just gotta.

Hack Job

I got an amazing deal on a Black & Decker Weed Wacker at a garage sale back in June. I was so excited! Finally, no more trimming with those giant scissors, which I had fallen out of love with years ago. This new baby is beautiful, orange and black, so sleek, looking like it means business, I couldn't wait to use it.

But wait, let's talk about the name Weed Wacker. Are we actually wacking any weeds? I know I'm not. I'm trimming the grass, "edging" if you will. So, why don't they call it the Black & Decker Edger? These things keep me up at night.

The first time I used this beast, I had no idea what I was in for, only that I should wear shoes. This is good advice, especially for me, because if anybody is gonna wack off a toe, it's gonna be me. Eye protection is also a good idea, maybe a welder's mask, to fend off the flying projectiles that inevitably spit up at your face. I opt for sunglasses in order to still look cool whilst wacking. I didn't feel so cool, however, when I got pinged on the tip of my nose by what must have been a tiny little knife. Not cool at all...

So I'm wacking, trying to get the feel for this thing, angling it as I'm swinging it back and forth. Every few seconds I'd move it wrong and hear that terrible sound which then revealed a butchered patch of grass. Oops.

I'm starting to feel really inept with this thing and I don't feel inept often. I can mow a lawn like nobody's business, plant and nurture a garden, paint the inside and outside of my house, fix things, assemble a barbecue and have put together my share of IKEA furniture over my lifetime. I can do stuff. So this thing, this wacker, is beating me. The honeymoon is over. My front lawn looks good but the scars are there and it hurts my pride. Where did I put those scissors...?

10" of Ridiculousness

While doing the quarterly cleaning of stuff n' such from my wallet, I came across a ridiculously long receipt from Home Depot. It wasn't the length of the receipt that really got me, about 10 inches, but rather the fact that there was only a single item purchased! I see this ALL the time and it's now become one of my top five pet peeves, following closely behind fruit flies and people who drive below the posted speed limit. So what's so important that Home Depot needs so much room on this receipt? What mind-blowing information are they giving me? Well, let's start off with the logo and store identifier, which takes up a good three inches at the top. Then we have the purchase, which in this case was a humungous poly tarp Jeff had me buy to cover up the cement as it was curing through hurricane force winds and pelting rain. THAT was a fun evening, with Jeff gone and me frantically trying to preserve the concrete pad. I was running outside every 5 minutes, pouncing on the flapping tarp that had come loose from its moorings, which were only pieces of 2x4's and large rocks. I can't imagine why they didn't hold... After battling Mother Nature for 30 minutes, I literally said out loud "screw this!" and went inside for the last time.

But I digress, back to the receipt for that damn tarp. After my purchase and total, method of payment, etc. we have a bar code. Why is there a bar code? Then return policy and date, yadda yadda yadda and their website so we can shop online. "You can do it. We can help!" Ok, you'd think that's enough, lots of information, maybe even too much but enough, stop there. But do they? No! Hey, I know, do you wanna enter for a chance to win a $1000 Home Depot gift card? What's that? You do? Well just read the next 4 inches of this receipt to find out what you need to do. You probably won't win the gift card but we will have succeeded in burdening you with a long receipt AND sucking another 15 minutes out of your life! Oh, and by the way, "no purchase necessary". The irony is killing me, is it killing you?

So, because I Google everything, really, everything. I was getting these calls on my cell phone from some 1-866 number which I constantly ignored by was still getting, literally every day, I finally Googled the phone number. I found out it was some poor fella probably in India who was hired by Fido to try and sell me long distance and other stuff I didn't need or I would've asked for it. Wouldn't you know it, about 30 minutes later I got another 1-866 call and after listening to the gent butcher my name, I kindly asked him to put me on the "do not call" list as I was advised on the website I found after Googling. Thank you once again Google! Now where was I?

Oh yes, I decided to Google the phrase "long receipt" for the heck of it. Not surprisingly I got some hits. Of course I got some hits! I've never typed anything in and NOT gotten hits, it's nuts. Well did you know that there is a "Long Receipt Club"? It's through Flickr and apparently anyone can join. People post pictures of their long receipts and then I guess they talk about them, helping each other cope.

Now I understand the need for receipts. I mean, how else would we buy something from Costco, use it for a week, then return it? I have yet to do this but hear it can be done and has been done. I'm most intrigued when people tell me you can return ANYTHING to Costco. Madness! But here's what I wish of Home Depot and other stores out there who feel the need to heap copious amounts of paper on me when I purchase one item. 4 inches! That's all I need. Come on, "you can do it, we can help"! If I wanna fill out a survey for a chance to win a pink pony, I'll call ya.

Hippies and Hula Hoops

The Calgary Folk Festival descended upon Prince's Island Park this past weekend and it was glorious. A feast for the senses with live music, great food and sunshine. Blue tarps and squatty lawn chairs as far as the eye could see, rows of grey port-a-potties standing like little soldiers, and the most eclectic mix of people you'll see this side of the Calgary Stampede. Heads adorned in messes of dreadlocks everywhere left me feeling pretty square with my neat, flat-ironed hair. I've decided that hippies are my new favorite group of people, I like the way they roll, so laid back and free, just like their 1960's predecessors. While watching the live music on stage, I was often distracted by 'hippie antics'. Hey, that sounds cool, and I think I'll make that a new word: hippieantics! "Oh stop with your hippieantics!" or "I'm not gonna stand for any more of these hippieantics!" or "If you don't control your hippieantics I'm gonna hit you with my vuvuzela!" (that was for Jay). Ok, where was I? Ah yes... my favorite hippie of the night was, well let's call her Sunflower. She found her one little spot in the trees off to the side of the main stage and danced her little hippe dance to every song that wafted through the summer air. Using the same flowy, spacey moves, never looking up to see who was watching, just feeling the music and letting it move through her body. It was sublime! I envied her.

Then there was the music. The best live acts are the ones that really engage the crowd and bring a level of intimacy to the performance, pulling you in. Obviously, seasoned "festies", most of the musicians were easily able to accomplish this. Only one singer failed to pull me in and she shall remain anonymous in case she ever reads this. Her top three songs were about a train, a bowl of black-eyed peas and a egg-laying hen. We're talkin' old school folk music, stuff my dad would like, sheesh! Then there was Shakura S'Aida! Wearing a sequined top, corset, super short leather skirt and 6" heels, this sweet lady brought me out, a real treat. At one point she asked the crowd if we were "ready to go to church"? Well, that sounded pretty neat so I said "yeah", actually, we all said "yeah" and I'm not sure any of us knew what she meant. So listen to me now cuz I'm gonna tell you how to "go to church" in case you should ever be asked. Wearing a good support bra, you put your arms in the air, look up and bounce around like your shoes are on fire. That's it. Thank you Shakura, for teaching me how to go to church. Frank Turner was great, a nice lad from the UK, singing Punky-folk and charming the crowd with stories of protests and annoying girls. Swell Season was who I came to see and they didn't disappoint, soooo good live, which I already knew but had yet to experience first hand. Glen and Marketa were magical and I almost broke into my own hippie dance right there in the trees, almost. At one point we received a lecture from Glen cuz some idiots sitting directly in front of the stage were jabbering on through one of Marketa's songs. It was an embarrassment! Seriously people, if you wanna chit chat, go have a barbecue in the backyard! Michael Franti and Spearhead finished off the night and does that guy know how to perform live or what?! He was engaging, sexy, and high energy with a smooth voice. Did you know the man hasn't worn shoes for 10 years? Really, look it up.

So we left the island that night, filled right up. Filled with lemonade slush, falafels, tikka masala and mini donuts. Filled with music that made me sing along, tap my feet, clap, dance and sometimes giggle and snicker, seriously, an egg-laying hen?!

Filled with sights that were both entertaining and bewildering. Bless you hippies, I love you and your folky folkness. And Sunflower, whereever you are, you should know, the next day I danced your little dance in my kitchen and it felt real good.

Top of the World

Por Que?

So, why a blog Cath? Don't you get enough attention? Aren't you already on the computer too much? Is your life really THAT interesting? Answer: no, yes and not really. Blogging creates a vulnerability I'm not terribly comfortable with, and I don't know why. Perhaps because a part of me, probably 30%, is still terribly shy. There, I've just revealed something about myself. Damn you blog!!

The content of 'Cat Knows That' will vary and will most certainly be peppered with YouTube posts of some of my favorite music and performances. There might be frequent postings, depending on how much attention I need, and I promise to try and keep it interesting. Come back and visit, if you dare. Release the Kraken!!