Channeling my Inner Catherine Zeta Jones

Did you see this movie?

Do you remember this scene?
Catherine Zeta Jones is my hero. She can sing, she can dance, she can sword fight, she is breath-takingly gorgeous (my 85 year old grandmother says that she is the most beautiful actress she has seen in her lifetime; now that is a compliment!), and she can navigate her way through a laser alarm system!

Last night, I had my chance to channel my inner Catherine. And I passed the test with flying colors. Allow me to explain...

It is Greek Week in these parts and I am working like a dog. Or a dawg. Whichever sounds more greuling to you. I am working every night until at least 9 p.m. Last night was no different, and as I rolled into the driveway I noticed the cutest little kitty in my front yard. I do love me some kitties, so I stopped to pet it and talk baby talk to the sweet lil thing. Apparently I made quite the impression, because the little critter just followed me right up the front steps. I attempted to shoo her away, to no avail.

Jonathan heard me on the porch and opened the door. Weber followed him.

At this point in my tale, you must understand that Weber is a German Shorhaired Pointer. Which means that she is a hunting dog. Which means that if you are a small critter with wings or fur, Weber wants to eat you. Or at least chase you around and hold you in her mouth for a little bit.

So from behind the glass door, Weber starts losing her marbles. She is barking, banging on the door, and basically throwing the doggy equivalent of a temper tantrum. Jonathan holds her back, I slip in the door, and we go about our business.

That is, until we realize that the door did not shut all the way.

In a flash, Weber pushes her way out the door and bolts into the darkness after the cat. I scream. Jonathan curses the day Weber was born, and we both run after her. Keep in mind that the girl is crazy fast. Greyhound fast. Luckily, the cat ran in between our house and the neighbors', so Weber ran back to the porch in hopes that the feline temptress was back where she first saw her.

I grabbed Weber's collar and reached for the door handle, just as Jonathan yelled...

"NOOOO!!!!!!!!"

Click.

The force of my reach pushed the door closed as I grabbed the handle. It was locked. And we were locked out.

To make a very long story short, poor Jonathan began searching around the house for possible points of entry as I periodically said in my sweetest voice, "Hooooneeeey....do you think we should go get a phone and a phone book from the neighbors and call a locksmith?" To which he would reply, "When we're making money, we will call a locksmith." Got it. (At this point, I repeatedly recite, "Wives submit to your husbands as unto the Lord" as many times as I can).

Jonathan got a hammer and screwdriver from the neighbors, and I assisted in holding the trash can steady as he used it as a ladder to a window. At this point, I will withold the details of how we got into the house since I wouldn't want anyone using my instructions to break in! But in the end, we were left with a trash can, a window opened less than one foot, and a substantial piece of furniture inside the window that provided an interesting obstacle.

Immediately, my visions of Catherine Zeta Jones in Entrapment returned. I told Jonathan to step aside. He hoisted me up onto the trash bin, and I surveyed the situation.

I closed my eyes.

Pictured myself in an awesome leather robber suit.

And began to slide through the crack.

Due to the furniture obstacle, I even had to do the whole tummy-down-hiney-up move as demonstrated by Catherine in the photo above. It was hot.

I made it in, unlocked the door, and then gave my hubby a huge hug for resisting my urging to call the locksmith. If he had, I would have never known that I could give Catherine a run for her money. Bring on the lasers!