We've Only Just Begun...It.

Pssssst, just between you and I, no wait. Before I spill, you need to promise me that you will keep this a secret. Promise? Seriously, uncross your fingers from behind your back, and really promise. And your legs. Come on!

Let's try this again. Promise to keep a secret if I tell you? Ok, good. You better keep your promise. Santa Claus is watching, and you don't want to end up on the naughty list so close to Christmas, do you? Ok, this is what you are promising. But before that, I trust you, so I'm only sharing this with you. You're special to me, and I know that once you say you won't tell anyone, you will keep your word. This is not to say that you can't share this blog with anyone else. You can. If you can trust them like I trust you. But I would make them promise like I am making you promise. And it can't just be until Christmas day. Oh no. This is a lifetime commitment of keeping this to yourself. If you can't handle it, tell me now and I won't share it with you. What do you mean you can pretend that I never told you this, that you don't listen to me anyway? Nice! Here I am, trying to share something with you and you're treating me like this? Never mind. Go back to Facebook, or whatever you read when you're not on my blog.

Come on. Don't be like this. I just need to make sure you're not going to be like the kid in Rachel's class who felt compelled to share that her mother told her about Santa and gave all the facts. (I wanted to kill that kid and her mother. If someone doesn't believe, great! But why do they have to spoil it for everyone else? I mean, my daugher is only 20 years old. She's too young not to believe. :-) Just kidding on the age. In discussing this with my 9 year old, I told her that everyone believes what they want to believe. In our house, we believe in Santa. Ok, back to what I have to tell you. Hopefully you will be better with secrets than the girl and her mother. Just swear you won't ever, ever, ever, tell my daughter what I am about to tell you. You swear? Ok, here is what you have sworn to keep secret:

Santa came early. And by early I mean he dropped my daughter's kitten off in Branford, CT and I had to go pick it up from there, not on Christmas Eve, but rather 6 days early. I guess he figured that he COULD fly the kitten in his sleigh if he didn't have all those other gifts like ipods, American Girl dolls, and misfit toys in his sleigh as well. So he contacted me and said, "Hey, Sha (that's what he calls me), the kitten is ready. Could you help me this year and put it under the tree on Christmas Eve?" At first I resisted. "No, Santa! I have made it perfectly clear that I DO NOT want a kitten, cat, or any kind of feline in my house!" Then, in the way that only Santa knows how to do, he reminded me of the 'non-refundable deposit'. Who am I to turn down Santa anyway? (Even though he DID cause some grief temporarily this year. See, "All I Want for Christmas".)

Now, this was all supposed to happen on Sunday, but due to the snow storm we were expecting, we had to change plans and go on Saturday instead. I had to rearrange the babysitter since Rachel couldn't know about this transaction. Santa made me promise not to tell anyone. Sort of like how I just made you promise. (Where do you think I got that from?) I promised, like you, but obviously I'm sharing it with JUST you. I trust you to keep this secret for all eternity, so I think Santa would think it's okay that I'm telling a few of my closest friends on the internet (and their friends that they trust, and so on). It's cool. (Seriously, just don't tell your kids!)

Anyway, I drove to Branford with the fear of the impending storm breathing down my back. As I drove, rushing to get to where I needed to go, like everyone else on the east coast, maniac drivers were everywhere, hurrying to get their milk and shovels. It hadn't even started to snow yet and yet it was treacherous driving out there.

I won't bore you with how the transaction went. Only to say that the woman that Santa trusted with Rachel's gift was a bit of a whack job. Apparently, she was the drop off point for many other kids who had asked for cats. There must have been 30 cats there, all taking over the house. Maybe Santa chose her for the drop off point because of her well-stocked kitty litter flooring. I don't know. But I do know that between the smell of cats and the woman's hacking up mucus and smoking cigarettes at the same time, I got my Rachel's bundle of joy and got the heck out of there. The snow storm providing the best excuse to have to run. Driving back home, I was faced with the next dilemma. Where to keep the lump of fur until Christmas day. Six days. Hmm? Can't stay in the house because Rachel would hear it. Guess Santa and I should have thought about that one. (Flippin' Santa!)

The only option was the Winnebago which sits in my driveway during the winter. The Winnebago (aka the RV, aka Santa's Secret Storage!) has all the modern comforts of home. With the one exception of running water and toilet usage due to it getting winterized last week. (Like a house, the pipes in it can freeze and therefore all the pipes were drained as a preventative measure.) So no water. But a kitten doesn't need running water and it certainly isn't toilet trained...yet.

To make the kitten feel at home, a miniature RV-sized litter pan and food/water dispenser was added to the accommodations. The heat was turned on, even though panic ensued when it was discovered that the RV was low on propane, which runs the heat. Not a simple fix. Can't go to Walmart and pick up a can of propane. No, the RV would either need to be driven to an lp gas station (NOT driving the RV in the snow, even though it hadn't started to snow yet. As soon as the RV left the driveway, inevitably, it WOULD begin to snow, so this was not an option.) Or have a delivery made to the house, but that would be too cost-prohibitive on the weekend. So a trip was made to Walmart to get electric heaters instead.

Dianne went to get Rachel at her friend's house, while I got nestled in with It. (That's its name until Rachel names It. There was confusion at Santa's drop off point on whether It is a boy or a girl. Hard to tell with all the fur. So a vet visit is the utmost of importance, first on the list of things to do for It after Christmas.) Ok, so I get It in the RV. It's petrified because It was used to being in a house full of other cats, and smoke. I wasn't about to provide other cats for It's comfort, so I lit up a cigarette and started smoking...no, I didn't. That's a lie. I only had a cigar from poker on hand, so I lit that up instead. It and I wandered around the RV, me looking for little choking hazards, he/she trying to figure out what the heck happened to his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, mother and father. I wonder if It was thinking that this was some type of concentration camp, being ripped away from his family like that. Anyway, I call Dianne and say, "It won't be quiet. It keeps meowing. Rachel is going to hear It when she gets out of the car. What should we do about It? Bring It back to the Cat Lady?" No such luck. I prepared the RV for complete secrecy. I pulled all the curtains down making it impossible to see in or out of the RV. We made arrangements to tell Rachel that I was working on something in the RV (never would happen but she doesn't know that). So when she got out of the car and could hear the very loud TV on in the RV, tuned to "Animal Planet", she would understand that it was just Mommy fixing the cable in the RV. (I know, the TV wouldn't work if the cable was broken, but again, she doesn't know that. I never claimed to be the best liar in the world, so give me a break!)

Anyway, it worked. She bought it all and went directly into the house. Phew!

Prior to Albert coming (the snow storm), it was cold out, but the RV was toasty warm. I left my coat in the house because it's a relatively short walk/run from the RV to the house. Knowing I was spending the night in the RV with It, I got nestled in on the couch to watch TV. It came and joined me, finding that the most comfortable place to lay was on my head, making it imposible to watch TV. Having just been ripped away from his/her familiar surroundings, I allowed this for a period of time. Until I couldn't breathe, then decided that was enough. It slept with me most of the night, but I didn't sleep because I was worried I was going to roll over on It and squish him/her to death in my sleep. I'm fairly certain that a trip to the taxidermist and a stuffed real kitty was NOT what Rachel was asking for. So I kept waking up to make sure It was alright. Like having a newborn in the house, waking up just to take a peek at It, poking It to wake it up, just to make sure It was still alive. Then wanting to go back to sleep but now It was wide awake and wanted to play. Ever try sleeping while sharp little claws are swiping at your face? Talk about trust!

The next morning, at 9:00 a.m., I woke up. Typical of every morning, I had to go to the bathroom. Half asleep, I staggered to the RV bathroom and remembered there is no water. I switched on a light because it was dark in there from the curtains being drawn. I couldn't find It. I could hear It, but couldn't see It. It was under a chair and was fine. I decided that I needed to brave the cold and run into the house to relieve myself. I looked for my coat and remembered I had left it in the house. I slipped on my slippers and opened the door. To my complete surprise, two feet of snow stacked on the stairs of the RV and everywhere made it almost impossible for me to open the door!! The simple run into the bathroom was not going to be as easy as I thought! Especially in my slippers! Due to the snow drifts, in some places the snow was 3 ft high! I was fortunately able to get the door open. But I had no coat, no boots, no gloves.

I called Dianne who was in the house watching Rachel and said, "I'm coming in. Don't ask me anything about the kitty in front of Rachel. Oh, and by the way, where did all this snow come from? I have to go pee really bad!" Dianne opened the garage door so I could come in that way, which was at least level ground. Unlike the stairs leading to the front door which were hard to detect as stairs from all the snow. From her nice, dry spot in the garage, Dianne proceeded to take pictures of me trudging through the snow, trying to make my way into the house. She was laughing her ass off watching me try to walk in snow that was up to my thigh! The more she laughed, the more I laughed. More importantly, the more I had to go to the bathroom. Frank Zappa's "Don't you eat that yellow snow, don't you go where huskies go" came to mind!

But all's well that ends well. I made it in the house just in the nick of time.

At the time of this post, I am in the RV with It. It is sleeping now and I'm typing away. I have deleted It's contribution that went something like this: qwerhagfyuge. This was one of the many times that It stepped on the keyboard trying to get my attention. I have only one question left. How do I send It back? Does Santa take returns? (I know, that's two questions. I'm sleep deprived.)

Speaking of being a jerk, I came across a song that has been playing on Sirius radio that has me cracking up so I thought I would share it with my readers. It's by the Spongebob Squarepants crew (of which I am a fan - I have a Spongebob mouse pad on my desk at work!). And although it doesn't have anything to do with It (remember It, the kitten?), it's my Kaneclusion for this week.

My Kaneclusion: I have witnessed impatient people getting annoyed at cashiers in stores. (Do you know how much these people get paid? Have you ever worked in retail? If you have, then you know how long the hours are. How standing and putting up with people's crap can be. I worked at Spencer's Gifts for 2 months once, making $3.85 an hour. It was the longest, hardest job I've ever worked for the paycheck I got.) So, the next time you're in line, and the cashier is making mistakes, or the person in front of you needs a price check, keep the following song in mind.

I have heard of families getting into wars over where they are going this Christmas, fighting over party arrangements, et cetera. Think of this song. You don't want others singing the following song about you.

Stop cutting off others in parking lots just so you can have the closer spot. The person you cut off is going to sing this song about you. And you will have deserved it!

In general, I have seen friends treating friends badly; family members taking other family members for granted; Hell, I've even seen Santa being a jerk this year. So it's all very fitting that I leave you with this little tune that says it all. Don't take it personally. Unless, of course, you HAVE been acting like a jerk. In that case, there are still a few days before Christmas to redeem yourself. I'm just saying!

Enjoy the song! The slide show is great!!

Bring Joy to the World.
It's the Thing to do.
But the world does not revolve around you.

Just a little reminder. You promised not to ever, ever, ever tell Rachel or her friends anything about this. So, please...

Don't be a jerk, it's Christmas. :-)

_____________________

Thank you to Mrs. B who offered to keep It until Christmas. Very kind of you. And to Jocelyne who rearranged her schedule to watch Rachel while the score was being made.

Before anyone asks, there are no pictures yet. I trust that you will not mention this to Rachel or her friends. If you saw a picture of It, it would be hard to contain yourself. I really do trust that you can keep a secret. But not THAT much. :-)



Happy Holidays to Everyone!