Well, we had Chris's party (I disremember if I talked about it here or in Bitches). None of the peanut/tree nut kids had an allergic reaction. Nobody got injured. Nobody cried. Nobody got lost. Nobody threw up. And? It's over. I'm calling that a win.
That sounds like a win. As does Kat's trip to Ikea. I love Ikea, too! But only when I go alone. This is what I have discovered about me and overwhelming places -- I can really only deal with them at my own pace, whatever that may be at the moment.
And I agree with Allyson and Wired on the capitalization issue.
Hee. The last picture in that set - I had it as my wallpaper on my work computer for a while. But that's exactly the look she gives me when she wants to go for a walk. I had to change it, because I kept looking at it and feeling guilty.
Cats shed a helluva lot this time of year (brushing both just a bit last night produced a ball I could compress to pingpong size) but you don't
peel off
layers they way dogs do when they blow a coat. It's amazing to me. You'd think they'd go bald.
Ah yes, I know well the 5 stares of death that Bartleby gives me. They are:
- food, now
- pee, now
- sleep, now
- play, now
- you are so totally kidding me with this puny walk, right? Around the block? What. Is. Up. With. That?
Oh, and there is the "I know not of what you speak." look that generally follows him jumping off the bed he's not supposed to get on without permission and him picking up (he thinks) edible something on the street, and trotting ahead of me so that I can't seem him chew it.
And the "Really. I couldn't help myself. I HAD to eat the entire 2 lb. package of pita bread you left at eye level. It was MY level! What could I do? You, know...any jury in the world would go with ME on this one. Still? I feel bad. For reals."
Mister Kitty has maybe two faces: Duuuuude and ATTACK. The later is rarely seen. Oh, and HUH. When he wakes up suddenly and totally has bedhead. He's the most uncatlike cat I've ever had.
Remember when we had the conversation about toddlers, and how many it would take to kill you --- I vote for 10 to 12 3 to 5 year olds. There were somewhere between 20 nd 30 in my storytime today. rowdy rowdy rowdy.
I take care of a friend's cat occasionally. Pretty Girl is some sort of Siamese mix...teeny and possessing only 1 remaining tooth...that sort of sticks out all the time. She seems to love me...or at least she seems to love the pets I give her while I watch her person's illicit tv. Then? Full on frontal attack with the flaming eyes, flailing claws and proximity to my eyes. What the hey? One second docile, the next, deathray. No warning ever.
If I've been gone all day and sit down at the computer when I get home I get the "we're waiting to be entertained" (AKA "Dance, monkey!") look from Rosie and Gilda.
No warning ever.
Keep an eye on the tail. There's a lot of body language there.
I'll try that. Mostly, I'm just staring at the claws. She's old, so I don't want to bat her onto the floor but cheezwhiz! Her person says she 'misses me' when I'm not around because I give her so much concentrated attention. I dunno. I think she misses her target practice.
