Is That a Panther?

Naaawwww...no panther. Just our black cat, Stockings, who has
never forgiven us for referring to him as "she" until we took her to
be spayed, and the vet said, "Uh...do you mind if we neuter this one
stead of spay him?" OK, so I'm not good at sexing cats. Wouldn't
you be more worried if I was? I'm not as bad as my friend Mabel,
who still calls her cat, Lovey, "she", even though she knows he is a
boy. And I didn't name this cat "Stockings," either. #1 son did that.
It's the name of Bill Clinton's cat, isn't it? That's OK. I have no
problem with my man Bill.

The point of this picture is that our Hillbilly Fishpond has some major
design flaws, and I'm all about pointing out the flaws if they're not mine.
Aside from the brackish green/brown water, we have the fake turtle,
fake owl, fake sunflower, fake bunny, and large seashell. I approve of
the river rock, and the big flat rocks that my Hillbilly Husband and #1
son hauled from the creek in numerous trips. I am neutral on the plants.
I just do not agree with HH's mixing of the fake species. There are too
many in such a small space.

But the real point is that I do not always agree with my HH. I have read
several blogs where the husband and wife never fight! Where is this
strange land? I know, maybe they don't want to show their bad sides
on the blog. It just seems unreal.

Don't these men leave their skidmarked underwear on the floor? Don't
they leave a melted drop of ice cream on the counter every night after
the woman has cleaned up? Don't they find her chocolate Easter bunny
in the fridge in June and help themselves? Don't they make a scene about
babysitting their own kids? Not that my HH does any of these, mind you.
It is information I have gathered over the years.

And what about her? Doesn't she nag him to take out the trash? Harp
at him to put in a lightbulb higher than 40 watts? Demand that he stay
out of strip clubs? Snore like a freight train until he wants to put a pillow
over her face?

I find it hard to believe that any marriage can be as perfect as some of
these I read about in Blogland. Why, Mother Teresa herself would've
liked to kick her husband to the curb every once in a while. Maybe that
is not a good example, what with Mother Teresa being a nun and all,
and not having a husband, unless you count God, which we certainly
must count God, and even though I am not a religious person, I think it
would be a serious relationship faux pas to kick God to the curb,
because that is kind of disrespectful, and you never know when that
lightning bolt just might shoot down out of the sky to make you mind
your manners.

Now don't go getting paranoid if you're on my blogroll and think this
is about you. I know some of you have issues every now and then,
because you share it with us. And that is much more refreshing than
sweeping it under the rug (how come the woman has to do the sweeping,
huh?) and more entertaining for me to read. Which is a must, because
this IS all about ME, you know. I think I might have mentioned that just
one time.

I don't get along with HH all the time. But I know how to pick my battles.
So he can decorate that Hillbilly Fishpond any old way he wants, and he
can leave the fake Christmas tree in a box by the pool table all year. But
when I think something is important, you can bet that I'll come out the winner.