I can’t help it. My laptop stays pretty much glued to my…well, lap. And when I’m not glued to it, I am sitting in front of my desktop computer. Either way my cat Tiger Lily can’t stand it. I mean it’s not like I’m addicted or anything. I happen to find time for other stuff like eating, breathing, sleeping…oh yea that. Sleeping. I have a very weird sleep pattern and sometimes it includes my falling asleep with the aforementioned laptop (I know that’s not safe) sitting on the bedspread. This also means that Tiger Lily’s normal comfort zone has been violated. On more than one occasion she makes a Homer Simpson grumble under her breath and huffs to the end of the bed. Or like she did earlier today, jumps off the bed, grabs her fake rat and plops it at the bedroom door with a loud, ornery yowl.

We soooo played earlier this morning. I promise. We play everyday but she gets bored after like minutes of fetch and then just wants to be cooed and coddled while she tries to yank the glasses off my face. She’s just spoiled and I’m the one to blame. And the separation anxiety is equally my fault. Now that we are in a bigger place, if I’ve scurried downstairs and she didn’t see me leave, Miss Lily cries. Seriously. I’ve never heard a cat sound like that — I mean a real cry like someone took away her favorite binky. I just yell, “I’m down here, Boo Boo!”

Striving to be a new weekend warrior, I was clearing things away in my backyard this past Saturday. The previous owner must have loved bricks because they are EVERYWHERE.

In the process of pulling out a few of them from around a tree, I discovered something odd. It looked to be a feeder, my father thought, just by the way it was hollow inside and had a square-ish shape at the top. After picking at it a bit we realized it wasn't a feeder. My dad pulled the object out and we discovered it was a little, beige-ish pink plastic statue. At first I thought this was some kind of house blessing or maybe some real voodoo stuff. And I was leery about trashing it. The more I looked at it, I figured it was a religious statue.

So instead I went inside and got on the Internet. As we all know, that is the most reputable and accurate source for researching hoodoo.

Best Southwest editor Loyd Brumfield's ceiling fan woes reminded me of a night-time issue of my own -- noises. I thought by now I would get over the new noises in my house. The ceiling fan moving the strings on the blinds, the AC kicking on and off downstairs, the crape myrtle branches brushing against the side of the house (need to trim those...) -- but I jump at almost every noise when I try to get to sleep. What's worse is that so does Tiger Lily, right there at the end of the bed, concerned with what it could be.

We both wake up at the same time and arch our heads to see if the sounds are new or the old ones we are used to. Last night was rough because around 3 a.m. we both bolted at the same noise. And I don't think it was the usual. I went downstairs and didn't see a thing out of the windows. I'm sure it was just a new noise I have to get used to. Well at least I hope...Have any of you seen Flipping Out or Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood? They always get someone to come out to the new house and "sage" the old karma and such from the space. And by such, I mean "spirits."

I haven't done that yet. Should I? Anyway, back in the old days all I dealt with was rebellious, partying neighbors next door to my apartment or the sound of slamming doors. I didn't like those noises either but at least they were familiar. These noises are "...coming from inside the house...." OK. I don't think it's haunted or anything. But still....

There is a point in time, and it happens to everyone here at neighborsgo, that you think you just said something really funny or cool to our boss Oscar Martinez. But alas, on the other end of the phone or in the blank stares coming back out you, there is utter, deafening silence. You have just bombed and there is no way out. All you can do is just sit there, squirming in your chair or shuffle your feet as you get through the quiet. It's somehow different than just telling a bad joke to a group of people you know or even strangers. Somehow when he's silent, the world stands still.

Things you may do to get through it:

1. Laugh maniacally.

2. Tell a friend sitting next to you and see if they share in your laughter instead.

3. And if you are on the phone, repeat "Hello? Hello?" and he will say right back, "Yea, I'm here...." Actually this last one is kind of hard to get through as well. Scratch that.

This past weekend my parents came to visit. It's really nice to finally have a place where my mother can come to hang out while my father helps me with all the tasks I can't do myself that require power tools I don't own. In the past I always lived on the second floor and my mother has trouble with stairs. Now she can just walk right into my house with no hassle.

Well it was Market Day Saturday and I actually managed to get them to go. Not only go, but they got out of the car and checked out the wares. It's not that they don't get out much or anything. It's just that the stuff they would call "foo foo" that I do aren't exactly things they would put on their itinerary for a weekend. And for lunch they actually went to Spiral Diner with me. I'm not a vegan, but that place is about the only restaurant I can eat without getting sick since my recent medical problems. It was so nice to see my parents there, noshing on mostly organic goodies and tofu. That's right. My dad, the one who says, "mmmm, pesticides" actually tried out the chef salad with tofu.

Today is my cat Tiger Lily's "birthday." I put that in quotes because I'm not entirely sure what day her real birthday is. When I got her in North Platte, Neb., back when I worked for The Telegraph, she came with a little index card with her appropriate birthday on it. I lost it somehow between getting settled in and writing three to four stories a day as a city reporter. When I took her to get checked out, the vet at the time said her birthday was probably around August given her age. I got her around early November 2003 and she was about three months.

Not knowing much about Nebraska, let alone such a small town, I didn't want to be alone at home. My father heeded warning that I should wait untill I was settled before I got a pet. I didn't. In fact I went to the nearest pet shop overrun in crazy cats (I felt guilty later for not going to a shelter, of course) and browsed. It was a dark, dank kind of place. Not really the most pleasant. But oh my goodness the cutest cats ever were in there. I went into one of the cages and one kitten jumped on my shoulder. To this day I think it was Tiger Lily but I was surrounded in kitties so who really knows. All I knew was I had to have the cat that picked me out especially and I seemed quite sure that Tiger Lily was the one that did.