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Fizzy and I first met in a Red Lobster parking lot. I wanted a kitten and a nearby farmer had a litter of kittens he was giving away. I told my friend I would “just go to look.” Very funny. Fizzy was the only girl in the litter and the only one with a cute little pink nose. She also was mellow and cuddly from the start. Of course, this was in part due to her not feeling the greatest–once she was healed up she was a spitfire! She would zoom across my apartment and spoke to me often. I understand being “expressive” was due to her part Siamese background. Fizzy had some super abilities I had not seen in a cat before. She could make herself super heavy so she could not be moved. This power was used mostly in the middle of the night as she pinned her owners to the bed! She also knew when I or my hubbie were sick or upset, and would be sure to be close and cuddly. She was our little furry healer. Fizzy’s full name is Fizgig, from the movie The Dark Crystal. I remember seeing this movie as a teenager and loving this character: a loyal ball of fur with big teeth and a rather cowardly nature. I decided when I had my first cat on my own, it would be named Fizgig. I ended up with a super soft, pink nosed black and white kitty–Fizgig didn’t have the right “flow” so Fizzy it was!

Fizzy was with me through most of my young adult years through my 30’s. We went through a lot of change (good and bad) together. She was always a friendly, loving constant in my life, greeting me each day when I got home from school or work. She would come to me when I called her name (most of the time–she was a cat, after all) She was my cat, but did eventually warm up to my husband. They became good friends, too, even though he is a “dog” person.

Fizzy did not appear her age and was very active and playful. The last day of her life she spent time on my lap, being petted and told how pretty she is.

She was a loving friend who is greatly missed.

Your comments and stories about Fizzy are greatly appreciated.


There is no fun to be had here today.


January 17, 2007

Beloved pet, companion, nurse, and friend.
Her death was unexpected and mercifully quick.
There is a hole in our household and in our hearts,
where her warm, loving fuzziness used to be.

So, C & C took a little road trip this weekend. Work took me up north and west in our fine state. I will summarize the preliminaries in order to get to the 9$ cheese curds.

* C & C met a pal at a German restaurant for dinner. Service and food and fellowship were all excellent!
(On the off chance the nice young server reads this blog, I do feel it is my duty to let her know that (1) we are very glad you moved the 5 strands of hair away from directly in front of your mouth and nose– the effort to not giggle as they poofed out during the reading of the specials was almost more than we could handle, (2) the plural of salmon is salmon, and (3) if your mobile dessert cart is bigger than the tables in your restaurant and almost as wide as the doorways–then it should probably have a speed limit and/or maybe fenders.)

*Unlike many places, when this hotel says it has two person whirlpool tubs in the room, they actually do mean a whirlpool tub that will fit two real people–at the same time.

* If one is traveling for work and has to get up in the morning, it is wise to listen to C when she says, “Should we set some kind of alarm?” and to not listen to C when he says, “Nah… we never sleep that late anyway.”

* Some towns are prettier than others. This town was not one of those towns.

* When driving around in a strange town on a Sunday it is worth noting the local customs. (1) Many restaurants are closed. (2) The bars and the adult book store are open. (3) The gas station we really wanted to stop at (The Tank and Tummy– we kid you not) is also closed.

* In a state better known for pine trees not and snow forts not sandcastles, there are an unusual number of “tropical paradise” themed eateries.

We ate lunch at one.

There were the required fake palm trees outside, fake parrots inside, and fake pictures of beaches and bue waters everywhere. (There were also old black and white photos, tuscan prints, and packer paraphenalia. The decor was… muddled.) We took our seats and opened the day-glo menu. Nothing tropical about the menu. Pretty standard American family restaurant fare. But there was nothing standard about the prices.

C: Eight dollars for an omelet? You have got to be kidding.
C: Yeah, look at the cheese curds. Nine dollars. Nine dollar cheese curds? They better be the best cheese curds I’ve ever had.

Now, we could have gotten up and left. But, we were hungry and we had just spent 20 minutes driving around looking for a restaurant that was open that didn’t have a neon beer sign in every window. The prices were high, but it wasn’t going to break us.
So we ordered.

One omelet for me. One burger for C. And an order of the $9 cheese curds.

C: So, I wonder why the prices are so high.
C: Yeah, it isn’t like these are unusual items.
C: Maybe the cost of living is higher here.
C: Higher than Chicago? Higher than Madtown?
C: I don’t know. Mabye it is so far off the major routes things are just harder to get.
(C has taken economics and understands supply and demand. He thinks he is smart.)
C: I don’t know, that doesn’t seem very likely.

The waitress returns with our food. It is at this point that the mystery is solved. There is another perfectly logical explanation for the increased cost of the food that we had neglected to consider.


The waitress’ hands shook from the weight of our three plates.
The order of cheese curds covered an entire dinner plate, with more piled on top.
The hamburger C ordered was as big as my hand.
And the omelet… OMG.. the omelet was over two hand-spans long and two inches thick.

We gasped.

The waitress rubbed her sore wrist and said, “Yeah, we get that a lot. Especially with the seven egg omelets.”

C: Seven egg omelet? I ordered a seven egg omelet? (What the hell was I thinking? That isn’t an omelet, that is a quiche.)
Waitress: Yup. All our omelets are seven egg omelets. Enjoy!

C & C had stumbled upon the Paradise Diner of Brobdingnag.
(We were glad we hadn’t said something about being hungry enough to eat a horse. We would have been crushed for sure.)

Neither of us could finish more than a third of our plates. We loaded the rest into containers and hired the locals to help us haul them out to the trunk of our car.

We expect to finish our left-overs sometime this month.

Moral of the Story: Paradise means different things to different people. In the North, apparently, it means portions for thrashers.

Tonight was date night for C & C.
A deluxe date night.
No namby-pamby movie or staying home and watching TV.

Tonight we went out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant and took in a show.

The restaurant was highly recommended by two very dear friends.
(They will remain unidentified to protect the innocent. And we aren’t just saying that. We know these people. They wouldn’t steer us wrong. They have, however, been absent from Brewtown for almost four years. Things change– as we have learned about our beloved Madtown.)

The food at the restaurant was disappointing– not bad, but not very good.
We’re big fans of Italian restaurants– and we have high standards, and this place just didn’t rise above average.
But that wasn’t the real problem.
No… while the food was average, the service was abysmal. ABYSMAL.
The waiter gave new meaning to the word “inattentive.”
Twice, and I’m not exaggerating this, the guy asked us a question AS HE WAS MOVING PAST OUR TABLE and dealing with the other table.
No slowing down. No eye contact. No, he didn’t return to hear our answer.
It was the oddest, most infuriating, rudest thing I’ve ever experienced in a restaurant.
It was like the guy was on roller skates and hadn’t figured out how to stop.
The third time he tried it, I forced him to actually stop and listen to us for an answer.
He gets brownie points for apologizing– but he then didn’t listen to what I said to him.
(No buttons pushed there.)
As we left, I spoke to the manager about it. The manager did apologize, but did not offer to make the experience right in any way. Very bad form.
We will not be returning.

But, no harm done– because after the meal we headed off to the show.
Our seats were a little high up, but there really aren’t any bad seats at that venue.
The dancing was fantastic. The music, with one very notable exception, was absolutely rockin’. The outfits were skimpy.
There was much fun had by all.
Much laughter.
And… who know, C might actually convince me to take dance lessons.
(It could happen.)

Big surprise– C & C have more than a few guilty pleasures.
Here are some current ones.

Beauty and the Geek (absolutely hilarious in a maddening, car-accident sort of way)
1 vs. 100 (though C isn’t hooked on that– yet– she will be, though, she will be)
Dancing with the Stars (we’re actually going to a tour/show this week)
The KFC Meal in a Bowl (C is on his own on this one, C has much higher standards)

Conversation that occurred while I was crafting this blog.

C: Dear, I need a guilty pleasure that you are hooked on that I’m not or I’ll feel bad.
C: How about the TV show Neat?
C: I don’t think that counts. You don’t really feel guilty about that.
C: I like 70’s music.
C: You don’t feel guilty about that either.
C: I’m not big on the whole guilt thing.
C: How about embarassed? What do you do or like that you are embarassed to admit?
C: For posting on our blog?
C: Yup.
C: You’re joking, right? I don’t think so.

She has a good point.

How about you, do you have any guilty pleasures you care to share?

Q: When do C & C decide to take down their Christmas tree?

A: Trick question. C & C don’t decide. The tree does.


What a fun end of 2006 we had.
Holidays are best when they involve traditions.

Some years ago an old friend of mine started a New Year’s tradition involving Epicurus’ triangle of joy (good food, good friends, and good conversation). He asked all of his friends to come to his house on New Year’s Eve, bring something good to eat, and bring a friend. We had a wonderful night. The food was great. We met new people. There was much laughter. And, of course, there were games.

A few years ago, C & C decided to continue that tradition. On New Years, we invited friends over for a potluck dinner and a night of games (usually poker.)

This year… this year, C & C are in a better place (in many ways) and we could change the makeup of the tradition somewhat. This year, we hosted a dinner party. (No pot luck this time.)

We said goodbye to 2006 and hello to 2007 with

Some Really Good Friends

Some Really Good Food

and some great conversation and laughter. (I lost at poker, but since I was almost comatose from having to work earlier that day, this was not a surprise.)

We were up until 2 am or so. At one point, we called some friends to wish them a Happy New Year. Some of them were actually home. Others were not, so we just left a message.

In the morning, we slept in. And then we had breakfast.

It was one of the best New Year’s Eves I’ve had since that first one that D hosted so many years ago. I can’t waitn ’til the next one.

Welcome to 2007.