OBSESSED WITH WATER AND FAKE AQUARIUMS

As a kid, I loved my father's boat. Even when it sat in the driveway, totally dry, I would hop aboard and pretend to be on the water. My sisters were older, so I played alone, a lot.

My granddaughter has a faux aquarium that is designed to lull a baby/child to sleep. It has blue lights, makes ocean sounds, has plastic moving sea creatures and plays soothing music. I am obsessed and I think I have to have one for my room!

I often wonder why I am drawn to water, even pretend water, so much.

My astrological sign is water, but I just don't know how I feel about the validity of that tidbit.

I'm a skeptic, and I shun unsolved mysteries.

Give me facts and astrology is full of holes.

Still, I am drawn to water and back to being a kid, I loved playing in the sprinkler and the Slip 'n Slide. Listen, we didn't have a real pool, okay? I had one of those inflatable types, with the rings. It didn't last long.

Today, gazing at the ocean makes me feel serene and getting sand in my sandals doesn't bother me. After all water takes care of that issue.

A high school chum once told me she hated the beach and adored the mountains. Mountains are beautiful, but they don't do anything, they just sit there. That girl?  Didn't last as my chum.

Cate, seems to have a similar affection for water already. She is not a water sign.

Do I love the water because I was born in September? I doubt it, but maybe I should reconsider.

I mean, that would solve the mystery, right?

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NIKITA AND FIONA ARE VERY BAD GIRLS

Oh, you bad girls. Why am I such a fan?

It's not the guns. I hate guns. GUNS kill people. Sorry, NRA.

This is my fun blog, so I'll stop there with gun talk (but I know what I know).

Nah, I wanna yap about fake BAD  GIRLS.

Yep, they have guns, lots of 'em and they can be violent as hell, but they are so cool.

Basic cable is a girls best friend, I'm telling you.

Grab a cool Miami-style cocktail and skip on over there, if you haven't, and get a load of the bad-ass Fiona on, Burn Notice.

She is probably 90 pounds, but she can hold her own (yes, it's fiction, I realize) with all the bad boys.

Miami setting not your bag? Groovy.

Nikita may be more your style.

Also, in the 90 pound range, she's a package of trouble if you're some rotten scum-bag.

I could not care less that these two, in the real world, may not always exit the fight scene in top-notch form. Matters not.

I do savor the fact that somewhere, on a computer (possibly with a dog nearby), writer-types conjure up these amazing story lines where the women don't fall down (unless it is part of their plan) and have to be rescued. These women do the rescuing and they pack heat (yes, I also love to quote classic movies where women constantly fall down and have to be rescued...I'm fickle).

Lift a glass with me to Fi and Nik (and the writers who create their stories and basic cable, and mother nature...)!

Bad asses with big guns (I still hate the gun part).

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A FORMAL LABOR DAY PICNIC WITH THE STARS

Some things are a must for me.

Like making brownies and using expired coupons at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

During Labor Day weekend, it is watching the film, Picnic.

Every year, I sit and watch as the length of Kim Novak's hair goes from longer to shorter, then back to longer and wonder why they didn't get her better hair extensions.

Kim and William Holden are the focus characters, but Ms. Rosalind, as the 'old-maid' (not my words) school teacher, owns that flick.

She puts everyone else to shame with her acting chops. When she talks about showing her pink panties and hunkers down in that car and takes a swing out of that bottle in a brown paper bag, she showed those young snips how to do it.

Marveling at how they dressed for a picnic, makes me want to attend an ordinary al fresco shindig where it is ties for the guys and dresses for the gals.

But, most of all, I wait for it.

I love it.

That song.

That dance.

Now, I'm off to find a cocktail dress, the song Moonglow and a can of beanie-weinies.

I'm throwing a PICNIC!

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DIVA DOGS IN THE GAME

The blog is called Cavi Diva, but that could be a reference to caviar and any diva of your choice.

It isn't. It's because I think I have the best dog and I wanted to use her photos as much as possible.

If I can't have fun along the way...well, I will always do my best to have fun, so this sentence is going nowhere fast.

There are huge differences in dogs, of course.

However, I'm not talking about breed.

Nope. Locale.

Feast your bloodshot eyes (I know they are) on my cagey native Floridian dog, Reggie;

versus my sister's dog, Zoey, over there near Austin,
Texas.

I think the photos speak for themselves, as clearly one dog is engaged in a complex, challenging and strategic board game of Wahoo, while the other ball of white fluff lounges on a soft rug and plays  with a toy.

Do I really need to say more?

Of course.

Dogs may play different games (did you buy that Wahoo biz?), but they are equally ranked in the diva department. Sweet and sassy little diva dogs.

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DRIED ENTERTAINMENT WITH ABC

Oh, for the simple pleasures of life.

Who needs expensive learning tools when the house is teeming with various forms of entertainment.

Does it get any better than watching a dryer spin around when you are ten-months-old?

Personally, I believe appliance makers and sellers are missing the boat, marketing-wise.

Buy a Maytag (or fill in your favorite brand), slap on a few letters (pick your educational option) and entertain the kiddies while getting work done.

Winning in a way Charlie Sheen will never understand!

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SIGNS ARE EVERYWHERE

Quotes and phrases and meaningful words, there is a plethora of them. You can't swing a dead poet without hitting some deep, possibly dark, pearl of wisdom.

In other words, look and you will see signs, signs, everywhere. The deeper issue is, do we remember them five seconds after we read them?

Take this one about House Rules in my kitchen. Very nice sentiment. Do I heed it with any regularity? Honestly, it comes and goes, like the tide of the Atlantic Ocean. I mean it would be great to embrace all of that on a daily basis. I'm too busy feeding a plethora of roaming and needy animals and dreaming of at least one of my fictional novels becoming a mega-hit in Hollywood (or even Miami).

However, this one. Now, this is a different story.

There is a reason it rests in my game room. This is a verse I can embrace and totally get behind. So, thank you, Oscar Wilde...you troubled soul, for this gem!

You were far ahead of your time!

JAPANESE DESSERT ME, BABY

Cavi Diva is here.

Anyone out there?

Talk to me, because I know you aren't going to read me. Much.

I don't really expect you to do so. Nope, as the semi-proud creator of a variety of blogs, I still don't have it in my head that people don't read.

Well, maybe some do.

I don't care.

The lack of interest in my blogs is of little interest to me at this juncture. I must do it. My fingers can not be stopped.

I am weary of the current state of the world, I am bored beyond imagination of celebrities and pseudo-celebs (Miley, just go away and take Kim and the entire K family with you, please).

Focusing on something really important is what I bring today.

Dessert at a Japanese restaurant in South Florida and a sweet baby trying to escape her Pack 'n Play (it's a playpen, come ON).

What's your favorite dessert and do you know a cuter baby than this one?

Anyone?

Speak it...in Comments.

If you have a Cavi or any pet, let's hear about 'em.

Over-and-Out!