Bronwyn Green

The Corner of Quirky & Kinky

Sixteen years ago this month, I stopped some bratface neighborhood kids from throwing rocks at a skinny, ratty looking black and white cat. That cat followed me home and lived on my steps until I let him come inside. It seems like it was weeks, but it was really probably only days.

Every time I went out on the porch, that skinny cat would flop on my steps and roll around and purr until I came out to pet him. I was sure he must belong to someone since he was so sweet. A storm was headed toward us, so I brought him in to stay on the porch. In the meanwhile, I put up “found” signs and took out an ad in the paper. When no one responded, Matt looked at me from where kitty was laying on his chest and said, “Well, I guess we have another cat.” (Did I ever mention how much I love that man?)

We named him Merlin because I’m an Arthurian legend junkie…and also a Labyrinth junkie. He’s always been playful and loving and so grateful to have a home. He loved the kids – Killian was his boy and always tried to convince us that Merlin uses a monocle, wears a top hat and talks in a British accent when we’re not around. And Abby, my former daycare girlie, was his girl. No matter how evil she was, he always went to her. One morning, he flopped on the table while she was eating breakfast to be by her. We spent the rest of the morning chasing after him with wet wipes because in his desire to get petted, he laid in her waffles. Then he led us around the house with waffle pieces hanging off his ass. Silly cat.

He was super pissy when we brought the kittens home, and Morrighan wanted so desperately to be his friend. She’d wait until he was asleep and then go lay by him. He’d wake up, whap her in the head and then find someplace else to sleep. Wash, rinse repeat until he decided it was easier to just let her sleep by him.

He was a cuddler with people and cats. He was especially fond of anyone with allergies – like Brynn and my friend Di. Oh, he looooooved Di. He wanted to be her very best friend any time she was over.

After sixteen wonderful years with him, we had to make the extremely difficult choice today to put Merlin down. Early stage kidney failure eventually becomes late stage kidney failure. In the last couple weeks, he’d lost an alarming amount of weight. And lately, he couldn’t keep anything down on the infrequent occasions that he tried to eat. This morning, when he couldn’t even pee, I knew his body was shutting down and it wouldn’t be long until he was in a lot of pain.

After talking and crying with Matt and the boys, we brought him in to the vet and said goodbye to our beautiful boy. I’ll miss you so much.

Merlin and Morrighan when he’d finally realized he wasn’t going to get away from her.

Cat puddle – Rowan, Merlin, Morrighan and Herne all cwtched up on the couch.


Herne, Rowan and Merlin lounging together.


Yeah, I can almost picture a top hat and a monocle on this guy.

And this was my boy this morning. I’m going to miss you, Mr. Kittenbritches.

I’m so sorry guys – the day job is devouring my soul today, so I’m a little late on the announcement. However – we have a winner for Anna Mayle’s book!

And that winner is…

(drum roll, please)

(still drumming)

(nope, still drumming)

(a little more drumming…)

(Okay, you’ve waited long enough)

ERICA PIKE!!!!

Erica, I’ll be contacting you shortly, so please keep an eye out for an email from me! šŸ˜€

I was recently asked about the Riding in Cars with Boys posts and if they know how cute and smart they are and if they know I post these blogs.

The answer to the first question is that I think they amuse each other and respect each other’s intelligence so there’s always a sense that it’s “game on” when they’re together – particularly with their verbal sparing. I think if you asked them if they were smart, they’d tell you that they get good grades. I don’t think they realize at all just how bright they are. Which is probably good for all the parents involved. šŸ˜‰

The answer to the second question is much easier and quicker to answer. They don’t know at all. It’s for a couple reasons. One is purely the selfish reason of I didn’t want them to clam up because I enjoy them so much. Even if I didn’t share with you guys, I’d still be writing this stuff down, because it makes my happy. The second is because I didn’t want them to play to an audience and try to top themselves constantly. I’d just like them to be them. When they graduate, I’ll give them each a bound copy of the awesomeness that is them.

So this is just them. Unvarnished boyness.

There’s been a lot of talk of Girl Island recently. Not-Kevin has a crush on a girl who may have the good sense to like him back. For several days in a row, he arrived at the car positively giddy.

Me: You’re awfully happy today, what’s up.

Not-Kevin: Ballroom dancing.

Me: Seriously? You guys have football, crew, equestrian club, water polo and ballroom dancing at this school? WTF?

Justin: Not dancing. But the rest? Yes.

Killian: This school caters to the rich and bored.

Me: Right. But back to the ballroom dancing. Please to explain.

Justin: Also the rich and bored have bad taste in music. Everyone listens to rap.

Me: You don’t.

Killian: We’re not rich. Or bored.

Me: Touche. But the ballroom dancing?

Not-Kevin: Okay, so everyone in this school – except us – listens to shit for music. Justin Beiber and rap are the only genres.

Justin: Which makes no sense it’s all baby baby, rape, drugs, rape, bitches and hos.

Killian: No one pays attention to the lyrics.

Not-Kevin: So anyway, I was talking to this girl.

Killian and Justin: Who?

Not-Kevin: I dunno. I forget her name. And anyway, we were leaving class and she sarcastically asked me if I wanted to rap. So I said, what should we rap about – bitches and hos? And she said, how about if we rap about how much we love and respect our women?

Me: I like her. I think she’s from the island.

Not-Kevin: I think so, too.

Me: So what did you rap about?

Not-Kevin: Nothing. We couldn’t think of anything of that rhymed with respect, so we ballroom danced down the hall, instead.

Justin: So what’s her name?

Not-Kevin: I don’t remember.

Killian: You danced with her and you don’t remember?

Not-Kevin: Nope.

Justin: I call shenanigans.

Killian: I call bullshit.

Justin: (stroking his non-existent beard) I can only think one reason you won’t tell us. You’re embarrassed about her.

Me: Or perhaps he doesn’t want you to introduce yourselves to her for fear that you’ll embarrass him.

Justin: Pffft. We’d never do such a thing.

Me: Riiiiiight.

Justin: Why do all the hot, nerdy girls date douchebags?

Not-Kevin: I think it’s a low self-esteem thing.

Justin: Well, it sucks.

Killian: Kenzie’s a hot nerdy chick.

Justin: Exactly! And she’s dating a douchebag!

Me: Hey! That’s my kid.

Justin: You know what? I’m gonna start interviewing hot, nerdy chicks who are dating douchebags.

Me: You could start your own blog.

Justin: Yeah! And I’ll call it, “So you dated a douchbag.” And Kenzie’s going to be my first guest.

Killian: (laughing) Fuck you.

Justin: Fuck you first.

In case you’re wondering, I’m pretty sure that’s “I love you” in boy.

Hi. It’s Cait. So I hacked my sister’s blog… as you may have nooooticed. MuwahahaHA!

ā€œBut why, Cait? Why, oh, why would you do such a thing and break the bond of sisterly trust between the two of you?ā€ you surely ask.

Well, one: Seriously? This isn’t gonna break a damn thing.

And two: You’re joking – it’s not like it was hard. Same brain people. Keep up.

But the real reason I’ve violated her privacy is to tell you all something extremely important.

I love my sister.

While I occasionally dabble with writing (I am nowhere near as good as she), I know that I don’t have the words to describe how truly marvelous she is. I suspect that even Shakespeare would be hard pressed to translate my love and adoration into spoken or written language because I feel such words just don’t exist. Although, if he could, that’d be some pretty bad ass iambic pentameter.

I digress.

Anyway… I love my sister.

I love her because she never didn’t have time for me. I love her because she accompanied Mum for Special Person Day in kindergarten which meant I got to have TWO people which made me the special-est of all. I love her because even though it would leave her crying and heartbroken, she always took goodnight phone calls from my four-year-old self that ended with me begging her to come home and not be married anymore. I love her because she didn’t listen to me.

I love her because she gave me books. Let me be a pirate and have a yellow horse. Tied my shoes. Taught me how to cross stitch (but not how to drive). She sang me bedtime songs that I didn’t know weren’t lullabies. Dyed my hair for the first time. Bought me a Tarot deck. Held me when I cried. Tweezed my eyebrows because I’m lazy. Built me a charm bracelet. Gives me bottles of Coke and mason jars full of Dove chocolates on bad days. She gave me the gift of music. Takes my stupid texts. Once stayed on the phone for twenty-five rings just to wake my ass up. She supported me in doing theatre and encouraged me to finally sing in front of others. (Blame for all my drunken karaoke falls upon her shoulders. And the Guinness.) She drove with me to my first day of college and set up my dorm then was there four years later at graduation. Called me her gypsy girl. Knows that daffodils mean ā€œI love you.ā€ And the greatest and most loving hug I’ve ever received was from her the day I told her I’m gay. Even though she already knew.

She’s fan-fucking-tastic. Her greenbean casserole is Heaven lightly coated with cheese, then baked. Her sugar cookies are the best in the whole damn world – really, the recipe says so. Her heart is bigger than her abuse of sarcasm. She is a remarkable mother. A talented and dedicated author and editor. A loyal and bluntly honest friend. She is beyond all words that mean greatness and her eyes are tearing as she reads this, but that’s okay because mine are, too. And it’ll be ā€œall-betteredā€ in just a little bit because I can tell her about yet another stupid adventure of mine and her blue eyes will be rolling and her head shaking and she’ll laugh like sunshine.

Her laugh is my laugh.

So yes, my sister. You may call her Bronwyn, Bron, and other lovely, loving endearments. But I will be forever grateful that someone up there liked me enough to give me the privilege and honor of calling her Sisty.

Happy birthday and wedding anniversary. Sorry I announced – loudly – to the congregation during the ceremony that I had to pee. And thanks for not listening to my pleas of not having a husband anymore. For as much as you are a second mother to me, he’s been the best father a girl could ever have.

Love always,

Didder

The other day Corwin told me that he’d be having a party in his choir class today. The deal is that the kids all sign up for something that their parents will then provide.

Corwin: I signed you up for the easiest thing, mama.”

Me: Cool. Please let it be paper plates. Please let it be paper plates. What is it?

Corwin: (smiling happily) Fruit!

Me: Oh. Guh – the most expensive messy thing to bring.

Corwin: That way you don’t have to cook. I know you hate cooking.

So that really was very sweet of the boy. And since I’m busy (and also lazy) I bought a fresh fruit tray at Meijer. This morning when we went to pick up Justin for school, the fruit tray rode in the middle of the back seat.

Corwin: Watch out for the fruity goodness.

Justin: Why to I have to ride share with a tub of fruit?

Corwin: Because it’s for the choir party at school today.

Justin: Whoa! The bitch is actually letting you guys have a party?

Corwin: Yep.

Justin: You know it’s just a ruse to steal your soul, right?

Corwin: Meh. I already sold mine to video games.

Justin: Enjoy the fruit. You’re safe.