Mirabel

I love indoor cats! I'm not so much into flea-bitten barn cats, but I have to love those overindulged, spoiled inside cats that arrogantly stalk the house, claim a spot on top of the refrigerator or jump into your lap at their whim, as long as they purr contentedly.

When Jason and I were first married, I considered my home incomplete without a fat cat lounging on the sofa. My husband had other ideas. But later, because of his great love for me and maybe due to some pleading on my part, he deferred to me and procured a nice, big, orange specimen that had already been fixed and declawed. Mort was a great birthday present! And best of all, he won Jason's affection. Mortimer was famous for falling asleep with all fours in the air, usually when company was present. Unfortunately, when we moved to another house, he developed a fascination with the outdoors, and due to his lack of claws, fell prey to some roaming coyotes one night. It was tragic.

Through our ten years, we've gone through several cats, some with better personality than others. Bristow, a hunter at heart, had to eventually be banished. She caught lots of wild animals in her forays outside, and left them headless on our doorstep. The last cat we tried to domesticate was a disaster on four feet who couldn't figure out how to use the litter box. We never figured out whether it was male or female, so we named it Meatball and sent it outside to live. Meatball tried to cross the road one day, and met his/her demise. The kids were unaffected by what might have been to some a tragedy, but there was simply no attachment.

Life with a cat provides endless humor and entertainment, and we missed having one around. So when we found this kitten through a Facebook friend, we jumped at the opportunity.
She came just in time for Father's Day. We named her Mirabel.

So far, she is a very smart kitty. She easily passed the litter box test. She plays energetically. She sleeps curled up in the cutest places. She is very curious about bathtubs. And the kids love her.
Jack especially has taken to her, and will even refill her food bowl, unprompted. Here he is roaring at her.

Some words I have been repeating lately:

"Don't hold the kitty by her neck like that!!!!"
"No, no, NO!!! The litter box is NASTY."
"Stop dumping her water into the litter box."
"Mirabel has enough food now."
And our favorite--"Why is the cat wet?"

Yard Chicken

Instead of the expected dog or a cat for a pet, my children have one goldfish, Fred, whom they don't care about, and Henny Penny, the quirky chicken that roosts on the back porch.*

Henny Penny is a Rhode Island Red that was pecked to near death by the other chickens in the pen. Jason rescued her from their beaks and freed her to roam in the yard. After weeks of dazed, skittish pecking about the grass and keeping somewhat close to us humans, she laid her first egg. I don't remember where that first egg turned up, but she now has a preferred laying spot.When we hear Henny Penny's characteristic pre-egg bawk-bawking, we open the garage door so she can get in to lay her precious. Sometimes she even flaps against our sliding door to let us know it's time.

Following her loud post-egg clucking, the kids will check to see what she's produced. They love to discover that small, clean, warm egg. Jack shouts, "Hay-Penny AI!!" We pulled in the other day mid-act. We waited around, but she was too shy.

*We now have a kitten added to the mix, but it's only been two days. Pictures to come.

More Projects!

After having my Aunt Ellen's nativity pattern for years, I finally made five-eighths of it this past October. Then Life happened, and I didn't finish it....yet. Maybe next October?? Thing was, it was fun to do, but stressful because of all the little "pieces-parts," in the words of Ms. Sara. My color-blind husband shrugged as I agonized over the exact color combinations on each figure and with the whole set. Coming next year: the angel of the Lord, a shepherd and the third wiseman.
Since that project was years in the making, I completed another, start to finish, just this very evening: a guitar shirt for Owen.

Here is the stencil ironed onto the shirt, along with my pattern. Note: Use freezer paper, not parchment paper! In my haste, I didn't look, and grabbed the wrong box. I tried to iron the parchment paper on, and was getting pretty peeved that it wouldn't stay down; then I realized my mistake. I had to painstakingly cut the whole thing out twice! While I was cutting with the Exacto knife, I had to remind myself to keep my mouth closed. I unconsciously stick my tongue out when I'm concentrating. Like, I've caught myself drooling into the bathroom sink as I'm scrubbing it out. Yikes! I didn't want any spit on my guitar stencil.

I sponged on paint, buzzed a hairdryer over it, and pulled off the stencil.
I can't wait until Owen sees it tomorrow! The lines were a bit fuzzy, but I think it was the nature of the fabric. It was 100% cotton, but it was woven to be softer, and I could see fibers sticking up all over the shirt. By the way, I paid 50 cents for this brand-new shirt!

And this is off the subject, but I couldn't resist. Jack and his buddy, Kitty. We still have yet to name her. She's mostly an outside cat, but loves to come inside too. We've tried to domesticate this one, but she won't use her litter box. Maybe when the kids get older, I'll be able to handle an indoor pet again.

Life on the Back Porch

Along with some great vegetables, I nabbed these flowers from my mother in law's garden while they were away. (With prior permission/suggestion/request from her.) I have always loved zinnias. They are such friendly flowers. And they're easy to arrange.









The other afternoon, Owen was doing his best to get the kitty, who was doing her best to hide from his clutches. It is amazing to me how the cats let Owen haul them around, not even giving him a warning scratch. He will carry them in various backwards and upside down positions, almost squeezing the life out of them. When he finally gets one, he climbs up into a chair and holds it tightly--Owen gleeful, cat quietly panicked. They've learned to stay away from him now.














By the way, this sweet little thing needs a home. She is learning to catch live things and turn them into dead things. (That's a good thing if you live in the country.) Can you mail a cat?















I was so sweetly touched when I saw Owen's treasures in the trunk of his car--two withered petunia blossoms. (Never mind the fact that I have been working with him NOT to pick flowers.) He saw me picking some zinnias and some hydrangeas and talking about how pretty they were. I'm glad he appreciates them, but we can't just go around picking any flowers we like now, can we? If I did that, I'd be in serious trouble with the city.















And the other day, I saw a butterfly resting on the outdoor tile. I wonder if it had seen better days? It had some apparent battle wounds. (Maybe it met up with the kitty?) I saw the butterfly again today, or maybe it was another one, and I saw the kitten scoping it out. I held my breath as the cat pounced--I didn't want to witness the murder of a butterfly--but fortunately the butterfly was quick enough to save its own life.

All before the second cup

This morning, before I could get to that next cup of coffee, I had a wealth of odd things happen in my little household. Thank goodness I already had one cup in my system--thanks to Atmore's Roaster's Gallery for the wonderful Ethiopian Sidamo.

Just for fun, I let Owen have a popsicle after his breakfast. Not a huge deal to me--it was homemade--yogurt and orange punch--and ice cube size. But it was a huge deal to him, especially when he got to the end.

I sewed a red zig-zag border on a LARGE piece of light blue doubleknit yardage. For a tablecloth. My mother in law found the fabric in her basement, and gave it to me. I almost apologized to my sewing machine for making it sew doubleknit--I've always hated it. But it is...uh, serviceable, or as my old roomie used to say, "ugly-but-functional," and I do need something for my serviceable folding tables downstairs. However, by the end of my project, I thought it was kind of cute. I kept sewing until the red was done, even though I smelled a diaper in need of a change and heard Helen starting to wake up.

I changed a poopy diaper.

I found a cat in Helen's crib. Dear Thomas, the affectionate but unkempt and thus relegated to outdoors Siamese mix. The kids just love him, and he takes advantage of anyone leaving the door open a little long. He and Bristow had popped in quickly this morning as Owen was going out to play. I'm sure I'll be finding cat hair in her crib now too.

I cleaned up Johnson's Baby Wash that was spilled on my hall floor thanks to Junior who has the uncanny ability and insatiable curiousity to open lids and caps. Once he got a baby proof top off a bottle of baby Motrin, and dumped the contents, although I'm not sure the cap was put on correctly in the first place. Yikes to that one--expensive and dangerous!

And I fixed a running toilet. Which was a direct result of the poopy diaper and an unsupervised child in the bathroom who must have gone from fiddling with the toilet to playing with the tub and all its enticing offerings, baby wash included. And by the way, what is the deal with waving bye-bye to a poopy going down the john?

Thank you, God, for my coffee maker and my bean grinder.

I did finish my tablecloth while Owen was napping. You can see Helen was much happier playing with Thomas than she was modeling it. And on another happy note, I finally finished my kitchen curtains! It's too small to see in the picture, but the tie backs are sparkly sequin braid. Glam meets modern meets retro. Unfortunately, I didn't buy enough, so I'll have to trot back to Wally World.

Ashes to ashes

The newest addition to my compost pile out back is poor Fishy. What's up with that, Jason?! YUK! I asked dear husband to please dispose of the floating fish, thinking flush it down the john or throw it into the field where we'll never see it again. No, he did the convenient thing and threw it out with that day's vegetable scraps to compost slowly with everything else. Such is the circle of life.

Speaking of the circle of life, Bristow had 5 kittens this past week. I knew her time was imminent when she kept trying desperately to get into the house and was meowing very loudly and unceasingly. Owen's heart was so soft toward her--he heard her and began meowing himself. Then he found a way to be close to her. She was pushing against the screen door, and Owen plunked down inside next to the door and touched her through the screen, laughing about the whole thing. (We'll have to teach him to be sensitive to a female in labor.)

Bristow, Wonder Kitty, whatever you want to call her...she is something else. She has birthed more offspring--quite the neighborhood hussy, as Jan says. She has also killed more animals and done unspeakable things to their remains. More times than I can recall have I almost stepped on her fresh offerings of headless meat at the doorstep. And more than once have I, horrified, tried to shield wee children I have been babysitting from watching her devour her latest prey. Yek.

On another note, here are some pictures of the kids with their grandpas. We love Grandpa W. and Grandpa B!