Nature loves me

I know people who believe our departed loved ones are represented by something (or things) that they themselves took delight in while they were alive.  For example: one of my friends has written a story about her mother's respect for spiders, and the way she took care to never kill one.  If found in the house, her mom would go to great lengths to remove a spider to a better place - every time.  So when my friend now sees a spider - especially in out of the way places or at odd moments - she feels her mom's presence quite strongly.

Others believe the sight of a cardinal means your loved one is with you at that time.  They 'appear' because you are confronted with a decision or an issue that has you in turmoil, and the cardinal's presence means you're not alone.  Cardinals also 'hang close' when those who are gone corporeally have been heavily in your thoughts.  It's a comfort thing...a blessing.

I believe in those things, too.

Although personally, my missing loved ones are represented by cranes.  Well, cranes and herons, but this is a distinction without a difference - to me at east.

This week was especially blessed when, on the drive to work, I saw five magnificent cranes flying directly over me.  I am absolutely certain they were my glorious girls and boys, and all at once I felt immediately saddened and delighted; there's no other way to explain it.  To see them all together made me catch my breath, and I wish with all my heart I could have pulled over and simply watched them soar until they were well out of sight.  I'm pretty certain the other drivers around me would not have been as thrilled with that decision, so I gawked as best I could given the circumstances.

All five in a tight pod.  Sleek and powerful, and beautifully bonded - and I knew straight away that this apparition couldn't have been anything other than Cleo, Flop, Hobbes, Jake, and Booker letting me know they'd found one another.  A bittersweet message to receive on the way in to work, yet it filled me with comfort for much of the day - even as the memory of it wrung tears periodically.  Isn't it amazing how similar the feelings are between happiness and sadness?

Even when all else around me is a disappointment or a struggle, I know nature loves me - thank God.

So it's June, is it?

A number of years ago, this would have been the day I would wish stepmom number one "a very happy birthday," but she passed away a few years back so we don't do that any more.  Oddly, I feel more sadness about that than I do about not being able to wish my dad a happy birthday.

Oh, it's not because he too has passed, but because he chooses to not recognise me as his daughter.  Consequently, I don't have a father to send cards to and mark holidays and milestones with any longer. 

His choice. 
His loss.

I do believe I have a new friend or two celebrating a birthday today, so I will instead focus my thoughts and best wishes in their direction - that oughtta fill the void.

And if that doesn't work, I can always keep cleaning.  The cats have seen fit this morning to keep my day full of activity and mess.  God bless 'em.  It began with Flop spewing upstairs.  I was awakened by the undeniable gurking sounds of a feline making hairball pudding. 

After cleaning mess one; parts one and two, I was reminded that feeding was the next order of the day - and why hadn't I gotten to it, yet?  Loud insistent meowing (Hobbes-style - she knows one word) drove me to the kitchen, where cat food was distributed to the hungry throng.

Having completed that chore, I followed my 'downstairs nose' to the cat box.  Someone had tinkled over the edge (per usual, at least one time per week), and most of a bladderful load of urine sat precariously in the fold of the liner's edge.  Deftly, I sopped up most of it with a paper towel before carefully rolling the bag liner up and over into itself, finding -- you guessed it....another bladder of pee on the other side! 

This explained the odor that usually doesn't live in the house.

New liner installed and fresh litter in place, I felt disaster had been averted. 

Walking away to wash my hands I was met by a sweetly curious Cleo, who was making her way quickly to the bathroom.  I felt good about treating her to the first use of a fresh litter box.  She had beaten the other two to first use privileges!

Mounting the stairs I heard a curious (and bone-chilling sound).  I turned on my heals and rushed to see Cleo standing in the box but too close to the side, and she wasn't squatting to urinate.  Yup.  She was now a fuzzy fountain, shooting a healthy stream of endless cat pee over the edge and onto the dry floor!!!

Back to the drawing board and paper towel (and bleach).  Apparently she had held her bladder since 1979, because there were flood level waters there to clean.

So....Happy Birthday to all of you June first-ers out there.  You go have fun, I'll man the cat box for the day.

Happy belated barfday to me

Yesterday was my birthday, and Flop - sweet, silent, fluffy, adorable, timid, skittish Flop - bestowed upon me a wonderful birthday present.  Her morning puke was watery and NOT on the rug!  Yup, both little puddles were located on the hardwood!!!

Hooray!  Thank you, Flop....best gift ever!

She made up for it in spades this morning, though.

A no-warning, instantaneous, steamy pile of stomach contents delivered directly into (and on top of) my clean white Keds....and on the textured door mat. A gloopy pile of ook that Hobbes is now trying to sniff out.

There goes breakfast!

I guess I know who may be hungry in a little while.

Sheesh.

October observations (of the feline sort)

Cleo - the epitome of a housebound tabby

Hobbes - the meticulously over-groomed foghorn

Flop - our opulent 'fraidy-cat'

Heave ho!

I've been awake for the better part of the past two hours - that is, as near as I can figure out.

Should have simply just gotten up and done homework reading, or grabbed a needle and thread and begun to turn the binding and stitch it in place....something! But I lay there, hoping to get back to sleep in the darkness and resumed quiet.

Originally, I was awakened by the sound of Cleo (as it turned out) retching. She ended up not tossing a hairball; it was a dry heave dry-run. Although, I am certain the main attraction will happen some time today, and probably when I am not around to locate it (before stepping in it).

After having lay there, unable to turn my mind off, I began to wonder what time it really was....and how much time I had actually put into the quilt. A lot of folks have asked, and while I began the project keeping pretty good track of the hours, I managed to let the task fall by the wayside somewhere along the way.

I turned on the TV to quickly ascertain the hour, and found it was 4:40AM....darn it! I lay on my back and noticed a spot moving on the ceiling overhead.

Quickly springing to my feet, I darted out of bed and found something to dispatch the sneaky spider before he could rappel from his space to my face. Ick!

Cleaned up the spider smoosh and returned to bed, but of course I was no longer the least bit drowsy, so I grabbed a pencil and some paper and began ciphering.

After a while I found myself becoming groggy, so I rolled over to enjoy a couple of hours of sleep in the lovely pre-dawn darkness....but it wasn't meant to be.

Not too far from me, somewhere in the dark, the familiar sounds of a cat about to deposit a sloppy, messy hairball sent my mommy-mode into hyper drive. Who and where, and can I get the transgressor to an easily cleanable surface? Nope, too late.

Hobbes stood motionless in front of me, about five paces off, finishing the process of making my day.

Paper towel, bottle of vinegar, a baggy to place the used towels and furry masses into. Armed with the tools of the trade, I quickly clean up and wonder what's next. I wash my hands and tumble back in to bed, hoping my blankets will love me more than the cats apparently do.

Nope. The Sandman and anything living in my home with four feet are in cahoots, I tell ya.

Hobbes jumped onto the bed and padded around; Flop crossed my legs and hopped off. This was a curiosity for Hobbes, since she's lately taken to picking on Flop, attempting to displace her any chance she gets in order to usurp Flop's spot in the sun, or on the bed next to the pillow, etc., etc.

Once Hobbes was convinced she had the bed to herself (my presence notwithstanding and quite inconsequential), she set about finding the most pleasing spot to lay down. This meant crisscrossing my chest and hips a few times, stepping stealthily up to my face and sniffing for signs of life, then finally coming to rest right next to my thigh....and grooming with a vengeance. After a bit, she settled and purred us both into a stupor, just as the gurking noise began in the distance.

That's right - Flop was now one level away and revving for a throw-up of her own. Hers are always messy, and usually on furniture or a rug.

On went a bedside light; up the stairs I ran; quickly I halted and located the position of the throwing-up cat with my mom-sonar. She spooks easily, and will trundle off to an unreachable spot if you disturb her mid-vomit.

Flop is a double-spewer.

I calmly spoke to her as I reached for a light switch, hoping to locate spillage number one, since she rarely stays too close to the first puke to deliver the second round.

Ah, there you a....eewwww! I found the first steamy pile....with my foot.

[heavy grossed-out sigh]

OK, so I am no longer thinking sleep is an option for the remainder of this early morning. I'll grab a nap sometime mid-afternoon when I am feeling it wash over me. For now, perhaps I will just head back to a spot on the couch and begin reading my chapters for class - again.

Intrepid hunters

Sleep interrupted by three mouse-hunting fuzzballs.

I thought the feet I heard creeping down the stairs were on the way to the box, but then there was a second pair of (nearly) silent feet.  I think the excitement of the chase destroyed all evidence of stealthiness on somebody's part.

Clearly, I missed the first set of feet entirely.

My aging, former barncats are now bumbling and fumbling over what next to do with their quarry.

Flop crouches near an unrecognized diminutive figure on the floor, growling as quietly as she can at Cleo, who is in the shadows - far behind the action.  Hobbes is hot on the trail and has cornered the seemingly crippled (or very dazed) mouse, and is 'on point', where Flop is still trying to find what is truly in front of her.

It's all too funny, and sad, and curious.

Hobbes is still carrying on with her very quiet talking.  What I cannot discern is if she is chatting to the mouse or squeaking instructions to the other girls.  Of course, it wasn't until I turned on my bedside lamp and peered over the edge to the floor, that I saw what exactly was going on.

Wobbly Mouse was either playing dead or was truly one foot in the grave.  Hobbes was sitting within nose-to-fur position, poking it at 12-second intervals to illicit movement.  Flop was alternately looking for said mouse and grumbling over her shoulder at Cleo.  Cleo...well, Cleo was laying on the floor, about four feet behind it all, cleaning her face and gazing in the general direction occasionally with mild interest and zero enthusiasm.

I hopped out of bed to grab a piece of paper towel with which to grab the soon dead carcass, heard a little commotion, and when I returned, mouse was nowhere to be seen and the cats had called off the chase.  Flop and Cleo had come upstairs, and Hobbes was perched on the sofa, looking neither satisfied or eager.

WHERE'S THE MOUSE??!!??

Jeez, I love a good farm cat.

Routines

The fluffy little shadow is at my feet, sniffing at something nearby and luxuriating in the feel of a good foot massage. 

No, I am not massaging her feet.  She is laying where I can run my foot up and down her back and scrub her tail.  Her own personal nirvana.  Earlier in the day I spent a good deal of time brushing Flop out with her favorite wire brush, and man - did she ever need it! 

We can't figure out how she develops such knots in her fur, unless it is just a common problem for long haired kitties.  It also seems to be a problem for her more often in the summer, especially under very humid conditions.  Poor little hairdo with feet.

After brushing a lot of the knotted mess free, I had Brian hold her while I trimmed out the worst two spots of matted fur with scissors.  She didn't panic so much today during the procedure as normal, mostly because she was getting a lot of stroking and futzing with her hindquarters - an area she particularly enjoys having petted.  My biggest fear is that I might accidentally nick her skin if she struggles while the scissors are closing.  This is why we 'tag-team' her and do everything gently and slowly.

Anyhow, I am back to my afternoon routine of more job searching and she is back to her usual MO - staying within eyesight of me, if not petting range.  It's a slow Monday and I feel a catnap coming on.

Good morning

Not certain, yet, how I feel this morning.  If I had to say anything at all about my mood, I would have to say I am somewhat ambivilant. Still feeling lost.

Watered the garden (which I should have done yesterday) and was roundly raspberried and booed by the plants. While tending to that chore, a Gold Finch landed on the telephone line where it crosses the patio.  I must have been still enough, because the little fellow then swooped down to a low branch on one of the hydrangea and proceeded to bob and weave - almost as if he was dancing to an internal Michael Jackson song.

The hibiscus and both remaining hydrangea are now flowering, as is the green ick, and I love the colors. Will have to find a better spot for the ick, though.

Flop and I shared a moment yesterday afternoon with a dusty little female cardinal.  She landed in the front flowerbed outside an open window, and spent some time fluttering and chirp-chipping around in the bed, hopping from the porch to the window sill to the ground and back again.  This caused Flop a lot of drooly moments while she tried to get the best view.  Each time the cardinal perched momentarily on the sill, Flop did her best to become invisible - poor thing - and the cardinal teased and flitted.

Once she flew off, Flop looked at me and mewed softly. I had to agree.

Currently, there is a rather industrious robin cleaning out the gutter just outside the library window.  There is all manner of loud shuffling, followed by the heaving of old leaf material propelled over the edge of the eave and past the window.  Guess I should get out there and join him.

Remember, all quilting posts and photos are now at: www.truenorthquilter.blogspot.com.  See you there!

Uh-huh...just what I thought

I walked in from garden patrol with muddy hands and a desire to soap them clean and brush up under my nails. Inside it was cool because the AC unit was on and a strategically placed, oscillating floor fan was wafting the air to and fro.

I kicked off my boots and mounted the two steps from the back door to the kitchen. Then I heard it.

The unmistakable sound of rustling tissue paper.

At the same time, Hobbes peeked out from around a corner and began her usual meowling conversation. Although, I can't quite say if she was asking me for more food, the chance to go outdoors herself, or if she was tattling on her little sister. Knowing Hobbes, it was most likely a combination of the three.

I concentrated on the tissue noise and looked over to find Flop attempting to skulk off the kitchen table while trying to keep eye contact with me (if she was spotted) and look adorable. She had been resting on my sewing on the table!

Hobbes: "I told hers nots to be theres. I told hers it was wrong to bes theres. I told hers she was goings to gets in troubles. I told hers I wanted to bes theres, but she woulds not shows me hows."

Me: "What are you doing up there? Get down! Flop! Get down."

Hobbes: "Can I gets more foods?"

Flop: A silent meow and an attempt to look adorable as she repositioned herself from a terrified flight crouch to a new state of repose on my dress.

All I can figure is that since I have moved, and begun using, the material in the shopping bags (that Flop would lie on) from the library floor, she just saw the easiest remedy was to follow the soft, squishy material from the bag to the kitchen table. Fair was fair. And the fact that the tissue paper makes the same noise as the plastic bag is just a bonus.

But how to account for getting stuck with pins? That had to be a shocker from time to time.

Well, at least now I know how it is that my perfectly pressed patterns and assembled pieces came to be wrinkled every now and again.

Random animal stuff

- If wishes were fishes...I'd have a pretty full ocean. Mmmmm...maybe a very large lake (or a small, small ocean) full of fish.

Some of the wishes admittedly would be small. Small enough to be considered inconsequential as wishes go.

Not really even wishes so much as utterances, and even I would be hard pressed to say as to whether or not I actually used the phrase "I wish" in conjunction with each utterance.

We had fish for dinner last night.

- I was up and around and standing in the right spot early this morning to witness a robin collect nesting materials. He began by hopping about, picking up errant leaves and casting them aside, then hopping on.

All at once he spotted a pliable piece of old plant material and pounced on it! Then, realizing he had found a veritable goldmine of weave-able items, he maneuvered here and there, sizing up each piece and handily collected six to eight similar pieces. He hopped 'round and 'round, I think trying to estimate whether or not he could fit and carry any more in his beak. Finally, he made his way to the stone edging and flew off with his bounty.

- While driving to a meeting last Saturday, I was blessed to see a doe standing in a very open area beside the street. I slowed my speed as I neared her, mostly to stare at her, but partly to avoid having to slam on the brakes should she do the typical deer dash in front of my car.

She didn't move...much.

Oddly, as I watched her, she lifted her head from her grass-munching pose to watch me as I drove past. It was like encountering an animatronic lawn ornament. Chewing, then craning, then little jerking movements of her head from left to right as I moved four feet along my trajectory, then another four feet, then another four feet. I could see her watching me. I loved it!

There was another car some distance behind me, but approaching my darling doe, and I hoped they too would have a neat encounter.

I watched in my rear view mirror as I drove off and saw that as the next car drew near, Miss Deer decided to amble into the street - and take her time crossing - making the next car stop abruptly! It made for a good chuckle.

- When Flop is taking a really good nap, I love that she relaxes to the point where her head becomes a drop of water. She literally "nods off" to sleep. She's also a bit drool-y.

- The girls were fed an early breakfast this morning. Afterwards, instead of our usual morning routine, Cleo quietly wandered back down the hall toward the bedrooms; entered Bud's room; sat quietly at the bedside; then hefted herself back onto his bed and curled up for who-knows-how-long.

In the silence of the morning, I could hear Brian roll over and settle back to a hard sleep, and Cleo let out her grunt-sigh as she nestled in next to his legs.

If you aren't keeping up on my quilting.....you should! Here's how: www.truenorthquilter.blogspot.com

Fun and collateral damage

Have you ever watched a cat get into playing with a toy? I mean really get in to knocking it around, tearing at it and 'ripping it a new one?'

We have three girls who love their little mice. Just little nothing dollar apiece toys...and I don't even think there is any catnip employed in the process of making them.

They are fairly realistic in the size and shape - right down to the little leather tail and felt ears sticking out from the head...but they are not catnip toys. Yet, Beana, Flop and Cleo could care less about anything except getting their paws (and jaws) on one and batting the daylights out of it all around the house. Usually one of the girls will romp around while the other two watch in delight. So we bought three mice, just to keep it fair (and fun).

One day we realized a mouse or two had gone missing, so several more specimens were purchased and added to the lot.

I should mention we also have a fairly large jar of catnip, and we try to keep the stock of mice 'steeping' in the jar when not in use. Makes the cat-n-mouse games so much more interesting for us, and delicious for the girls.

Wet newspaper

Oh, those wacky cats.

It must have been between 5 and 5:30 this morning when the girls decided to play.

Flop will egg on Cleo (sometimes with a purpose, other times completely unintentionally), and Cleo will comply about sixty to seventy percent of the time. Usually, the play will be brief - for all of the energy expended to start something - but if you are lucky enough to be witness to it, the play is entertaining.

And I must admit, there are times when we humans of the domicile see the inkling of silliness and cat mayhem beginning, and we will endeavor to raise the stakes quickly before one of them loses interest. It makes it enjoyable to for us...is that so wrong?

At any rate, typically, Flop will forget she wanted to play and become bored - or focused on some other activity - but Cleo will still be game. What's a dog-cat with an extremely sticky attention span supposed to do?

This morning was one of those events, where somehow, in the dark, play was initiated but then became a nuisance. Undeterred, Cleo pursued Flop until Flop was overcome by one of her famous hissy fits. She protests Cleo's attempts at play by hissing and slapping (with large, ineffectual cotton ball feet), which Cleo ignores and pushes past, nipping and taunting until Flop dissolves into a hunchbacked trundle run to any piece of furniture she can get under (which, amazingly enough is almost every piece of upholstered furniture we own). From that protected vantage point, Flop continues her protesting and defensive slap tactics with very little success.

Cleo, on the other hand, lays on the floor inches away, rolling and stretching like a kitten, prutting and purring and basically looking as innocent and cute as can be, while her sister is then overcome by gag reflex and starts to cough up a hairball, induced by the hissing of the play time.

This morning was one of those hissy fit catastrophes, and while I soothed Flop into a calmer state (preventing the hairball mess), I was jolted into a new day. I thought I could go back to bed and have the warmth of flannel sheets and toasty blankets, and the quiet darkness of the predawn hours, lull me back to sleep.

Nope. No such luck. I lay there for about an hour or so when I finally realized I was waisting awake time...so up and at 'em.

Rats!

It's raining...and very quietly, I must add. Usually I can hear the rain, or at least smell it, but not this morning. I turned on the TV to find out what time I had managed to lolly-gag to, and was told by the cheery weather dude that it was raining at 6:34, but that we might see sunshine before the sun sets today. Humph!

While I was soothing Flop earlier, I saw the flashing strobe of the paper delivery car bounce around the living room walls upstairs. So my paper was at the end of the driveway, hopefully not drenched or lying in a puddle (my delivery person has a knack for soaking a paper), but definitely in jeopardy of succumbing to the elements.

I fed the girls, then donned shoes and a sweater and sloshed out to the street.

Yup, squishy paper.

Double rats!

6:55 A.M. - Mr. Robin has decided it is time to wake the rest of the bird neighborhood. I like the sound of early birds just before and during twilight.

7:04 A.M. - A lighter sky has penetrated the cloud coverage, and you can detect daylight is on its way.

7:26 A.M. - Sure, the newspaper is still too wet to read, but I am towelled off and inside, and my day has promise. I am turning my page.

See you in the funny papers!

Ain't that the way it goes?

It's barely 6a.m. and the cats have been fed, Brian has been up to the bathroom to be sick, and I discovered one or two of the little furry family members objected to my work around the lower level yesterday by peeing on the floor, approximately 3 feet away from the box.

Today is going to be some day.

I was startled awake by the unmistakable sounds of a cat making a hairball. Judging from the sound coordinates, she was over in the area of the sofa - ON THE CARPET! - and about ready to let loose.

- This is when you discover how quickly you can get out of bed when you have to. -

I had already been jolted awake easily half an hour earlier by Flop objecting to Cleo's arrival in the 'hood - with the usual growling and hissing - which only makes Cleo act all cute and playful. When Flop says "go away", Cleo usually wants to know why, then proceeds to push the envelope when asking. She must be the younger of the siblings.

Anyhow, we got it sorted out and purring, Cleo joined me on the bed, while Flop maintained her dominant position on the freshly repositioned living area.

Just as I was drifting back to sleep, Flop made with the hurking noises, and the panic ensued.

To sleep, per chance to......sleep! Ahhh, there's always tonight, I suppose.

I spent the second through the sixth with my grandmother, and came home to find Karl had washed the dishes - yea! While in Livonia I looked for work online, a lot, and found two good leads. Let's see where they take me.

I am thinking, while it is quiet, I will go to the market and get some necessaries. Brian works today at the mall job, so I will get my running around done before he has to leave. (He thinks this is the source of his upset stomach - too much work. He worked quite a bit of last week, and then the weekend at the festival, and now back to work with no time off in between. I keep telling him this is the real world, unless he finds a way to become independently wealthy.)

Yes, I am still without a car, but I figure getting one right away is not a critical need, as I won't be here for two months once October arrives. After I return home, then I will buy a car, mostly because then I will have some serious money to invest in a better one.

Oh, and before I forget, I did nothing wrong in caring for my vehicle. I took great care of it, and two (TWO) mechanics said that there was nothing to be found to indicate the trouble I had was imminent. So, sour grapes and raspberries to you! Next time you are having an off day/week/month, don't sling your poo in my general direction. Go find a punching bag and have at it. I believe you know who you are.

Cleo tells me she is still hungry, and my hair needs blowing dry or I will have Karl hair all day, so this is where I will end it for now.

Around 10 or so this morning, the gas people will be moving my meter to the outside of the house. No more squeaking wheels to listen to when the water heater does its thing and the heat comes on this winter! Now, if they will just fix the damage that occured from the hole they made when the meter and line were first installed, that would be groovy. Here's another series of phone calls to make - but ain't that the way it goes?

Have a great day all!

Poor little Cleo

Yeah, she's having health issues again, and it appears to be the struvite crystals, as before. It was treatable, but costly, and it took a considerable amount of care and watchfulness...special diet, pushing fluid, giving meds. It was all worth it - she is a dear cat - and we were all relieved to be able to treat her and not have to put her down. But...

That was back about three years ago, when I was employed and that sort of thing wasn't a problem or a concern. Knowing that costs have gone up, and the diagnosis and treatment will be the same (even though I will take her to the same vet), I am slightly hesitant to put out the cash. But I will do it, simply because she is a member of the family, and I can't handle the thought of losing her. Brian knows that the alternative to taking care of her might be an agonizing decline, so he is mentally set to have to put her down, but I know it will rip a hole in his heart.

It's funny, we have three cats, and each one of them corresponds to one of us - either in temperament, personality, physical maladies, what-have-you.

I seem to belong to Hobbes. She is vocal and the "mom-cat", watchful, busy, fussy, but mostly vocal (and a little spastic). She is the first to volunteer in the kitchen, always wanting to eat, make sure others have eaten... She is gregarious and social and afraid of no one.

Flop, now she belongs to Karl. Or, rather, he belongs to the fuzzy one. She was his choice when I told the boys they could choose one kitten from the litter to bring with us to the new house in Clarkston. Someone to keep Hobbes company - and oh how they disagreed on which one (which is how we ended up with three cats; a long story I will tell you some day).

Flop is stand-offish and timid. Quick to lash out and yearning for attention, affection and contact, but unsure and clumsy in obtaining it. A bulldozer of a critter, but adorable and cuddly; so very much like Karl. She amuses herself much of the time, and from our locations in the house more often than not we can hear her having fun...but never really see it happening. It takes her a long time to come out of hiding, but once she adopts someone into her inner circle, she allows them to see her and get close from time to time.

Cleo and Brian are strange soul mates. They also have similar qualities...Brian had kidney stones a year ago, which oddly enough is just too similar to Cleo's issue. They are both open and friendly, sweet, playful, good natured, rough and tumble. Ready to have fun and be active, but most times would rather just hang and enjoy some quiet time and cuddling.

So, it turns out we have to get Cleo to the vet once more, so it was a good thing I spent some time babysitting great Gram - the capital made will help to pay for this unexpected cost.

Think good thoughts for the little fuzzyhead, and I will keep you posted.

Another year older and deeper in poo

For my birthday, the girls caught a mouse!

I don't know when the fun began, exactly, but right around first light, Flop followed the quarry noiselessly to the lower level. Despite her big cottony feet she made enough sound trying to move the furniture to get to the little Mickey-wanna-be, that I was awakened and very curious. Flop was desperate to get to the bugger, and of course, the little coward (mouse, that is) took the most direct path to the sewing area...and THAT'S when the fun began.

Eventually, Cleo joined the fray, and the real entertainment began! Between the two of them, the mouse was too scared to move more than a couple of feet. Once I moved some storage bins from their slots in the Ikea funiture tower (see a previous quilting entry for photo), there was pretty good access to the little rat fink...at which point Cleo poked it in the butt, and the mouse took off like a shot!

There was a darn good chase around the living area, culminating in the capture and release program held in the weight room.

Then Hobbes arrived.

She had that thing in her little vice-like jaws and upstairs before the other two knew what had happened. Hobbes does not monkey around!

So happy birthday to me...I got a mouse, and a DVD version of Love You to Death, a chocolate cake from my mom ("remote control delivery" via grandson number one), a gift certificate to JoAnn Fabrics, and lovely green buds on trees and shrubs! Who could ask for anything more?

Well....I could. May I have a full time, PAYING job, please?

Thanks for tuning in. More PRODUCTION NEWS soon. In the meanwhile, pray for a job, please.

I feel compelled to post a photo of Flop

Cleo and Hobbes have had their moments here in the blog, but poor Flop, darling that she is, hasn't been featured. I think that it is only fair to get her picture out here for all to admire and coo over (LOL). So, without further ado, here is the Flop-meister.

Sometimes, there is peace in the kingdom, and the three will share a favorite place in the sun. More often than not, you will only find two together in any given spot...so these photos of triple sisterly bliss are few and far between. But these are my girls.

^Clockwise, from the 12 o'clock position, there is Cleo, Hobbes and Flop.

This is actually a grazing photo from last winter into spring. Those little boxes of grass were a great source of amusement for us, and usually led to a mowing session in the living room after the little jaws stopped chomping.