Obsessed? I hope so!

Obsession, according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary: A persistent disturbing preoccupation with an idea or feeling; also: an emotion or idea causing such a preoccupation.

Many have used this word to describe me when it comes to skiing. Just because I once took my skis in for a wax and tuneup in July in hopes it would bring an early snow, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I check the local ski resorts daily to see if, by chance, we have had any new snow, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I get happy when there is even the tiniest cloud in the sky, even in the summer, because I think it just might be bringing some of its cloud friends for some snow, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I literally dream I am skiing and wake up sad that it was only a dream, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I once skied on a little patch of man-made snow just to have my skis on my feet and snow under my skis, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I have taken my kids to the vacant ski resorts during the summer just to sit on the chair lift, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I once skied on my right leg as I put a tiny fracture in my left leg the week before from a bad fall, does not make me obsessed.

Just because I would get in the car at night with a friend and drive an hour to a resort for night skiing in 8 degree weather, does not make me obsessed.


Just because I would spend my last few dollars on a lift ticket instead of anything else, does not make me obsessed. Or does it?

I might be inclined to say I am a wee bit obsessed, but I love having something I love and am passionate about. How sad it would be to go through life and not have something that you are passionate about, dream about, think about, and get to be a part of.

I like knowing how much I love to ski. I like how if I am having a rotten day, I can hit the slopes and no matter what was bothering me, by the time I hit my first run, I no longer care. Bills overdue? Who cares! I can't pay them from the chairlift, so they just don't matter. Nothing can bother me when I am up there, nothing, and I like it that way.


I am beginning to think being obsessed is a good thing. I hope everyone finds at least one thing they can't live without. I have often said I could live if I physically couldn't ski, but honestly, not sure if I would want to. I would be glad to be around for my kids, but I know I would always be missing that part of me that loves to ski. It makes me happy. I also say to find something you love to do, and do it often. If not, why not?
(c)2007 Cindy Breninger. All Rights Reserved.

Ever See a Cat High on Catnip? It's Bad News!

Oh my word, one of the funniest and oddest things I have ever seen is going on in my place right this minute. We have two cats, Elvis and Daisy May. They are pretty peaceful, laid back, and prefer to sleep most of the time. I don't know a whole lot about cats, so I am lucky they are low maintenance. They are brother and sister, two years old, and I have always thought they seemed pretty normal, nothing out of the ordinary, like say, a drug problem...or so I thought.

I was at the pet store today and bought a cardboard scratch board type of thing. I brought it home, took it out of the box and left it on the floor and went about my day. Normal enough, until Elvis, the boy cat, started sniffing around. I swear, if cats could smile, he was smilling from ear to ear. He put his nose up to the cardboard and wouldn't move, like his nose was glued to it or something.

The girl, Daisy May, was over near the outer box trying to rip it apart. What the??? What is up with the cats? They rarely move and now they are both acting like crazies. I took the outer box from Daisy May and inside was a little baggie containing some dried green leaves. It reminded me of the bags of marijuana that the police take from the bad guys on the show Cops. I re-read the box the cardboard came in and it said it contained one bag of "Catnip".

I had never seen Catnip and actually thought it was something that was made up; however, my cats knew what it was. They were acting like junkies trying to get high. I swear, they were smellin', lickin', and eatin' the cardboard thing. Geeze, hand them a lighter and I bet they would have smoked it. I mean it, they were trying to eat the cardboard to get to the catnip, or the smell, as that must have leaked onto the cardboard. Daisy May put her nose up to the board for another hit, er, smell, and Elvis full on smacked her on the head as if to tell her it was his stash and to go get her own. They were ready to fight over sniffing the cardboard. What happened to my sweet, mellow cats? They were fighting over a hit off the cardboard.

Even now, as we are about to go to bed, Elvis is sleeping on the drug laced, er, catnip laced board. Every time Daisy May goes near him, he hisses, and I swear, he about makes a fist giving her a warning that it is his cardboard. If he had a knife, I swear he would pull it on her. Good thing cats can't have guns. I am beginning to think he is an addict. If he starts following his paws around in the air seeing tracers, I am taking that cardboard back.

I think I am going to take them to Narcotics Anonymous tomorrow as they need to get clean. This stuff is bad news. Ever see a cat's brain on catnip? It is just like that commercial with the fried egg. Bad news.
(c)2007 Cindy Breninger. All Rights Reserved.