Oh, The Humanity!

So you guys may have heard about a Tumblr blog called Dog Shaming. If you haven't you should go right now! http://dog-shaming.com/


Well, I decided that my darling little punks needed a good shaming too. 

Data quite obviously has no regrets at all.

Seven is bored with my accusations.

Let me see your pet shaming photos!

Cry Havok, and Let Loose the Weasels of War!

Not my god damned day...

I had been typing for two hours this evening about how I'd been the past few weeks, and then my browser froze, and I lost EVERYTHING.

I'm discouraged now, because I felt like I had a really awesome flow going. 

Alright, I'll try again, and hopefully be as funny and witty as I (felt I) was the first time. It may be a losing battle as I am now 3 drinks into a pretty decent drunk.

Adventures In Weasel-Sitting

I have been so busy the past few weeks, so I'm sorry about the lack of posts. I'm honestly horrible when it comes to packing, and moving. I'm awful. And Husband isn't much better to be honest. So between us, we're pretty ineffectual. It's amazing. But tonight I started putting away the last of what was unpacked, such as the pots and pans we had been using for day-to-day cooking, and the utensils. From here on out, if it doesn't come pre-prepared... then we're not eating it.

To add to the chaos, I've been babysitting a friend's ferrets while she's in New York visiting family for Memorial Weekend. Over Christmas I watched her ferret Shiver, and I loved her. She enjoyed sitting in my lap while I watched TV, or snuggling inside of my bathrobe while I typed on my laptop. She was awesome, and sweet. But what I didn't realise was that Shiver was an older ferret at the end of her lifespan. She was mellowed by time.
Roscoe and Hannalore are about a year old, and feisty. They chase my cats, wrestle my feet, and like to attack unsuspecting shoes with unparalleled ferocity. Seven seems to love them, and will allow them to in turn chase, and be chased by her. They lay in the hallway and wrestle until she's done with it, and then she holds one of the ferrets down and grooms it. Data on the other hand will climb to the top of his cat tree out of their reach and give us looks like "What the shit... really? You're gonna let them do that?" They're so ornery that we've taken to calling them "War Weasels" rather than ferrets. They get all riled up, and do this insane war dance. It's laugh out loud funny, I mean seriously.

I love Roscoe more than is reasonable, and he's adorably fat, like a badger. Hannalore is more dominant, and would rather play than cuddle. Neither of them ever bite, ever.
If it weren't for the fact that they're only 90% litter box trainable, I would want a pair for myself.

Oh, what's that you say..? I didn't mention the litter box part? Oh yes, how silly of me. They're pooping in my corners if I don't watch them.
Pooping. In. My. House.
In the corners.

Yep... it's lovely.

We've only had three accidents on carpet, but there have been a few of them on tile. And ferret poop smells delightful. It's wonderful* actually.. No seriously, it reminds me of a movie scene, hold on.

What a wonderful smell you've discovered... no seriously, is that ferret shit?

But they're hysterical beasts to watch. I do sort of love them. Musky smell and all.** Here's a video of Roscoe killing my socks for the betterment of all ferret-kind, because apparently war weasels must have a battle to fight, even if that battle is against fabric.

 

Chicago!  

June 10th I'm headed to Chicago to see The Bloggess! I have my copy of her book, and I will probably buy another copy as a gift for my best friend. I get to hang out with the ever lovely Lauren on this trip as well, so how cool is that?

 It'll be a whole weekend trip, so look for a lot of photos to come from it, especially since my dSLR is now working again. I can show off my mad photo skillz, yeah baby, yeah!

I promised Bob that I'd get a photo for him, so he knows we're thinking of him, so look for that as well.


I'll leave you with more weasel insanity:

PS. My home is not usually so messy, I keep a very tidy house most days, but please refer back to the previous statement about being ineffectual about packing and moving. Thank you.

*By wonderful I, of course, mean disgusting.
**To be fair, I would rate "ferret smell" as somewhere better than "wet dirty dog" but worse than "hamster cage"

EDIT: OH! I almost forgot to mention that I have a beautiful bike now! I've been riding it fairly often so for, and I love it. Here's a photo I took the first day I had it, when I was riding it home.

It's very fancy, and shifts gears automatically. Because I'm trying to lose weight... but I'm also lazy. 

Till next time my lovely readers!

Phoning It In

Damn I'm Busy

 Hey guys! I've been super caught up with things elsewhere on webspace, and just haven't had much to talk about right now. We did hear from the landlord, and yes it was nothing at all. He just wanted to know if we were happy here, and to let us know that he wasn't raising the rent this year. The strange part was that in an effort to soothe my panic, Husband found us a new apartment to move to that's two houses down from us, and $300 less. So I think we're moving anyway. Weird, huh? The new apartment has a basement (it's actually more of a house than an apartment, really), and a yard that I can plant in, rather than growing all of my flowers in pots on the deck. Oh! It also has a FIREPLACE! Which means I can totally decorate properly for Christmas this year. FUCK YAH!
Snow falling softly outside of our sliding glass doors, while a fireplace burns merrily in our hearth. OMFG I love this idea already and it's still Spring!

So we'll be moving in June, which means I have a bunch of mad packing to do. Holy shit do I ever... it's only just hit me as I type this..
Sooooo, I might have another anxiety attack on the way. Fuck my life.

Nah, I'm kidding... fireplace.

Dieting... Like a Boss

 I weighed myself yesterday and I weighed.... are you ready?


I mean really ready? Because this is good.


Sure? You're ready now?


Okay....



I weigh 215lbs! I've lost 5lbs since I started this bullshit. And you know what, it has gotten easier. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track what I eat, and what exercise I do and it's starting to show. The other day I ordered a salad from McDonald's (shut up... It was my only option at that time. Unless I chose not to eat at all.) Before when I'd ordered the salads at fast food places, I'd eat it, and then still be hungry. But I got halfway through it and was uncomfortably full, so I just tossed the rest. And totally had guilt over it because you know there are starving kids out there who would have loved to have had that salad you thankless horrible person! Gah... Yes that actually went through my mind.
I totally should have been Catholic, I have a very well developed sense of guilt. I'd have fit in perfectly. I feel guilty for everything. Kill a spider? Guilt. Eat meat? Guilt. Squirt my cat with water for peeing in my plants? Guilt!
I'm totally rambling now. FOCUS!

So obviously this method of accountability is working for me, which is fantastic. I still need to get a treadmill, and I want one very badly because we're getting into the rainy part of the year here, and I don't want to lose any ground. I may just start jogging in place like a derpface with the blinds drawn so no one looks in and reports someone having a seizure in their apartment.

Copy & Paste!

So the rest of what follows is a re-post from my old blog. I stole the idea from Lauren, so if you hate it... well don't blame her because she's super adorable, and sweet. You can't hate her even if you try, and I don't know why you'd try.. you awful person. 

So, it has been a while since I've updated on here. But since very very few people are reading this, it's okay. :P Seven has fully recovered from her owie, and her claw has grown back in with no issues. There was some concern that it might curve into her paw when it grew back in, but no. It's perfectly normal.

The cats still steal our food, like tiny, fur-covered bandits. But there are added distractions now. Like birds. And fish. Oh yes, nothing is quite so amazing as the 50 gallon fish tank in our dining room. Especially Betty. Betty is a black moor goldfish. (Is she really a "gold"fish if she's black? Discuss.) And for some reason, Data and Seven are obsessed with her. Not that we don't have other fish in the tank mind you. But they only want to harass Betty.

When we first got the 50 gallon, Seven decided to throw herself into it. While it was full of water. I watched it happen, in slow motion. Time ground down slowly, like bullet-time, as I watched her put her tiny paws on the top, and heave herself up and over. Her little body slid over the lip, and into the water, where her head immediately dunked itself under the surface. I don't think she was expecting the water, for surely she'd have requested tiny water-wings if so. Her eyes bugged wide open and she flailed frantically for a mere half a second before surfacing and scrambling out of the tank of kitten doom. It seemed so much longer than it really was. I can still picture her face as she realised what had just happened. She blamed me for it too. I could tell in her eyes as she licked herself off. Why had I not warned her? Why had I not stopped her? I tried to explain that I would have, but it happened so fast... unfortunately I couldn't stop laughing long enough to make words.

Soon, we added an occupant to the tank, which was Betty. She must have thought that she'd won the fishy lotto, since she was the only occupant of the 50gal for a number of days. Seven and Data would both sit on the table in front of the tank, and watch her swim, like fans at the slooowest tennis match ever. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually though, all good things end, and we moved Betty into her actual home, which was a 10gal "hospital tank". That's how she acquired her name btw. She's "Nurse Betty". Seven's obsession finds new heights with the move, while Data's shifts to the birds outside, as the weather has by this time warmed up some, and the birds have returned en masse to the feeder outside our window. (The fact that I bought peanuts for the chipmunks and squirrels may have also contributed...)

Here's Seven with Betty                                      

We added fish to the large tank, and everything was going swimmingly (hurr) until one day when I had the lid to Betty's tank off, to feed her. Seven had forgotten the very important lesson she'd learned while she was inside the water of the big tank. Namely that water is wet, and she doesn't like it when it's deep.

So once again, swimming cat.

Unfortunately, this time around, we had a minor casualty. Betty sustained an injury, and the water of the hospital tank was now really yucky with cat fur. So I had to put Betty in the larger tank to recover from her injury, which is the opposite of how that shit is supposed to work, for reasons I'm about to disclose.

Betty developed a serious infection in the wound, and contracted ich. Shortly thereafter, everyone else in our tank had it. It's like freeking herpes or something... jesus. It really spreads fast. The rainbows were just COVERED in it, and the pleco succumbed within days of infection. A quick eulogy and a burial at sea followed. (It was lovely, many kind words were spoken and tears shed. We had bad wine and lemon cake afterwards during the wake)

They're all fine now (except the plec, of course... though I suppose he's fine too now. In fishy heaven, or the vast nothingness of the tea-time of the soul) and once she was all healthy Betty showed her true colors.

She is a horrible, horrible vandal.

She methodically made a route around the tank, and chewed through all of the stems of the plants I had put in the tank. The real plants. No plastic things for my tank, no sir. She's eaten about $45 worth of plants at this point, I think. I'm not sure what to do about her now. I thought about trading her to the pet store I bought her at, in exchange for credit towards another fish, but Seven loves her so much. (Loves? Hates? Wants to eat?.. I don't know. We'll go with it.) So I'm considering putting her back in the 10gal, but then she'll be lonely. Am I putting too much thought into this? Probably.

In other news, Sean has a full time job as a bartender at a really awesome new restaurant. The downside of this was that Data was home alone, all day, for a few days. So last Sunday, he felt he needed to talk to me about this.

When Data "talks to me" about issues he has, it usually takes the form of peeing. Thankfully it's never on the carpets, or the walls like some male cats will do. But it's always very clear.

Like the last time he had an issue with me, he dragged a towel around the living room, until it was in front of his litter box. He then proceeded to pee all over the towel. When I tried to pick him up to stop him, he just looked at me and kept peeing.

"Do you see what I'm peeing mom? I'm peeing my anger."

Turns out I had forgotten to clean his litter box for a day or two. Unacceptable, mom. And he let me know it.

Well, he had issue with dad not being home, so while I was getting ready for work, he tried to pee in my potted palms. I caught him, and wrapped plastic over the tops, so he couldn't dig in the rocks. He watched me do this, and then when he was SURE I was paying attention, peed in his cat bed.

Not really sure what he was thinking, since it's HIS bed, but hell I'd rather he do that than pee all over mine!

It's better now, as Sean is going into work at around 4pm, and I'm home by 5:30, but he's watching us in case we shirk our duties to him again.

 Wrapping Up

If you guys are interested in fish as well as cats, I can do a post next time about the tank, and how it looks today. I really want to say "Leave a comment on what you'd like me to post about next" but my blog isn't big enough for that... 

Yet.

Till next time folks!  

Tiny Trips to the Tiny Vet for a Tiny Cat

Seven Has An Owie


So, Seven, while she is probably the cutest cat I've ever seen (forgive me, I suppose that most people think their kittens are the cutest, like parents all think their kid is the cutest, or the smartest, or whatever) however, she's not the brightest kitten. She gets into some remarkably silly things. And ends up in some troublesome situations.
As I mentioned in my last post, she has only been to the vet once, and it was entirely her own fault. I thought we had another visit lined up when she stepped on the burner of the stove the other day, but thankfully she wasn't there long enough, and the burner had cooled enough that while I'm sure it didn't feel good, there was no damage.

Silly creature.


We didn't witness it happen, so we can't be certain what occurred, but I noticed Seven's paw was wet, so I went to dry it off. That's when I realized it was blood on her paw.
Upon further inspection, she was missing her dewclaw... all of it. It wasn't broken, it wasn't just injured, it was gone. All that was left was a bloody stub.
I cleaned it the best I could, and looked online for what to do. Some of the suggestions were to keep an eye on it, and see how it does. In retrospect I realize that this is for a partially broken claw, but we hadn't picked a vet for her yet, so we thought we'd give it a day and see how she did. She was obviously not bothered by it at all, since she was playing, and eating as normal.
I think she must have caught it in the carpet of her cat tree, and then perhaps fallen from it. It's the only thing I can think of, since the rest of our home is fairly cat-proofed.
After a day of observation, it had scabbed over and looked clean, so I just kept cleaning it with warm water, and then started searching for a vet. We found one, and we made an appointment, but we had to wait two days.
At her vet visit I was glad when the vet told me I'd done exactly the right thing. She gave Seven and antibiotic shot, and informed us that she'd done such a good job of removing the claw herself, that they didn't need to do surgery. *laughs*
It was a month or two before it grews back all the way, but she's doing just fine. 

Data
It seems unfair that I spend so much time talking about Seven, however, Data is just such a good boy. He's such a love, and so gentle. I've never had scratches from him (my husband has a HUGE one right now, but that's another story).
Though, I do wish he'd quit having a wee in my cacti... -_-
Here's some photos to admire of our beautiful Data.

Diet and Exercise 

 I've been just awful the past 2-3 days. And my husband is NO HELP AT ALL! He totally had me bake chocolate chip cookies last night. And I make some awesome cookies. They're moist, soft, and melt in your mouth. So what I'm saying here is I made them, and ate two of them.

*sighs*

So, I think what I'm learning from keeping this blog, is my Number One, is my Number One Enabler. I'm being good today so far though. I've had tomato soup for lunch, and a banana.

...and only one cookie.

Anxiety

Woke up with a bad attack of anxiety this morning, which was bad. But at least for once I know the source! My son goes back home to North Carolina tomorrow, and I go back to work. I don't want my kid to leave, but he has school to get back to, and friends. I also know that nothing will have gotten done while I was on vacation, so it's a good thing I enjoyed this week, because I used up all of my time off for a while, and I'll have to play catch up like hell.

It makes me angry, and frustrated with myself that I feel like hiding all the time. Just this rock solid dread sitting in the middle of my chest making it difficult to think, or breathe. I tell myself that I am an AWESOME person, who has had really AMAZING experiences. I am smart, and funny, and people seem to genuinely like me. I try to remind myself that I am capable, clever and that I've always managed to handle anything and everything that people have thrown at me, usually without breaking a sweat. But I have a hard time believing myself most days.

The weird thing is that while I was bouncing around from place to place (and country to country in some cases) I never worried about things. I was alright, as long as I had a little money, and a way to get a hold of a friend. It's real life I can't seem to get a hold of.

Being a grown-up blows.

Signing off?

I feel like I should have a way of ending each blog, like a catchphrase... Hmph. What do you guys think?

It's The Little Things In Life... (with photos)

I Feel Hungover

But I'm not. I somehow woke up with a queasy stomach, and a headache despite not drinking. Perhaps it's the ghost of my younger days, when I would drink until I could barely see and then wake up fresh as a daisy the next morning, coming back to haunt me. I also managed to hyperextend my right knee while making the bed last night... don't ask me how, I'm just that freeking graceful. Despite all this, I plan on going for a very nice walk today. I still don't have my treadmill for my exercise and I'm behind on my goals. So walking it is!
Thankfully we have some beautiful biking trails around this city, so I'm going to walk along those, and probably chase some frogs, or lizards.

Because I do that sort of crap.

Easter Weekend

So I hope everyone had a fantastic weekend, no matter if you celebrate Easter, Passover or just the awesomeness of having a bloody long weekend. I'm not religious in any real way, but Sunday was my birthday, so we celebrated! WOO!
My mother-in-law (who is religious) decided to make twice the food apparently, so we could have two celebrations at once. There was enough to feed a squad of US Marines.. no joke. There was also two cakes, and a pie at the end of it. Shockingly, I didn't gain weight that day. Neither did I lose any, but I considered it a minor miracle anyway.

My son, who flew in from his dad's in North Carolina for Spring Break, ate till he popped, and then fell into a food coma on the sofa, while the oldies chatted over our pieces of sugary goodness. (I had the red velvet cake YUM) He's gotten pretty damned tall, this child of mine, and is becoming an adult before my eyes. Makes me feel old, and sad. I want to hug him back to being a little boy again.

It's not the most flattering photo, sorry. But you can see the shaved head really well. I can hardly argue about the hair, by the way, since when I was his age I shaved my head in the exact same manner. So I decided to handle it the same way my mother did.
"It's your head. You have to live with it until it grows out."
It takes all the fun out of rebellion when your parents don't care. ;) I had taken it a step further, and dyed it colors, but he declined when I offered to make his hair blue and green to match Easter eggs. Boy, I sure know how to ruin his fun. *grins*

He looks like a young (drug-free) Sid Vicious here.

 Also part of the Easter fun was the brand new puppy that my mother-in-law got. Her name is Daisy, and she's a pure-bred Golden Retriever. I personally wouldn't ever pay for a pure-bred, because not only have her dogs cost her arms and legs, and most of her internal organs to start with, they also have more health issues than any mutt I have ever owned. They are very well loved dogs though, and she can afford the medical costs, while my husband and I cannot. As a matter of fact, we've only had to take our "pound kitties" to the vet once for something outside of their usual wellness check ups for their shots. (I'll post about that next time though, as it's a pretty funny story.)
Now, since everyone loves puppy pictures, and Daisy is without a doubt the most "AWWW" inducing puppy I have ever met... Without further ado: Daisy.

Mini-Sid with Daisy

My gorgeous husband (Also known as "Number One") with Daisy

If your head doesn't explode from cute, you should see a doctor.

Spring Cleaning!

Yesterday  I made a list of stuff to take care of around the house for my annual spring cleaning marathon, since for the first time since ...well, for the first time in my memory actually, I have the whole week off at home. I took the week off to be with my boy, so I figured we could use it to clean as well as spend time together. (because I'm REALLY not good with idle time. Blogging helps me with this, I need shit to do.)
One of the things on my list was to wash all my linens, and then fold and put them away again. The Winter sheets sets get wrapped in plastic, and stored with a dryer sheet or two, and the Summer sheets get pulled out of the same plastics, washed and placed on the beds, or put on the linen shelf for later. Now I know most people find folding the fitted sheets difficult, and I did too until I developed my technique for folding. I thought that I would help everyone by sharing this great way to fold that I developed myself. If it helps you out, please let me know in the comments!

That's all there is to it!

I'm sure I had more to talk about, but now all I can think about is that it's nearly 1pm, and I haven't started my walk yet, or had anything to eat. So until next time, when we'll discuss my cat's vet visit, and perhaps post photos from the walk.

I'm Getting Dirty

Out of the Zone

Oh man... I did something today that is WAY outside of my comfort zone.

I signed up for the Dirty Girl Mud Run.

I hate running, but this is more like an obstacle course plus it's for a good cause. Breast Cancer. Plus, I get to roll in the mud, which sounds kind of awesome.

http://www.godirtygirl.com/

I have such a hard time making friends right now though, and I don't get out much, so I felt like this was a chance to break out of my rut. Do something that's good for me, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I'm already regretting it, but that's probably a good sign as it means that I'm doing something besides video games. >.>

My blog readers can be my cheerleaders! I will keep you posted on here.

Diet News

My husband had left the house while I was typing up my last post, and just shortly after I finished it, he returned... With a red velvet cake. *sighs*
I was good though, and only took a small sliver of it. I've allowed myself a very small slice every day, but only one, and it has been VERY small. But it's enough. It tricks me into thinking I'm still not dieting, and makes me happy to have that to look forward to all day.

The wonderful bookkeeper I work for at the lab took me out to lunch yesterday, to Noodles & Company and I ordered the small Med Salad despite how much I love their pastas in cream sauces. I was pretty proud of myself. Jan told me I was doing such a great job at work, that she felt like getting me out of the store. Happy!

I've been good about my meals at home as well. Last night I had a half cup of cooked couscous with a teaspoon of olive oil and cracked pepper, and 6 oz of grilled chicken. And I made myself a smoothie to drink with half a mango, a cup of frozen blueberries and blackberries, a half cup of yoghurt, and cranberry crystal light instead of juice or milk. There was enough for three serving from that, I had a small glass of it (half a pint) and my husband drank the rest.
Was I good? I dunno, I forgot to weigh myself this morning. However I feel like I did better, so it's a start. I would have normally probably made burgers, or ordered a pizza, then had soda with it. Followed by chips later. So yeah, an improvement I think.

I want a baby, Husband says "NO!"

Not a real baby. A kitten. Or a puppy, I'm not picky. But my husband says that we "don't need another one. Two is enough."
Then he reminds me that I spoil the shit out of the cats we have, and that to share that attention at this point would probably break their hearts. Which makes me feel guilty.
I don't sleep well, so I suppose having a third cat to poke me all night would be even worse, but I can't help but stare at photos of tiny baby kittens in need of homes and my heart breaks because I cannot save all the animals in the whole world. If I am ever rich, I will donate all but what I need for basic survival to rescuing, and finding homes for all the sad, and abused animals in the world.

Because I'm a crazy cat lady.

Until next time!

Jelly Belly: The Journey From Tubby To Tiny

This is a repost from my old blog.

So we have nicknames for our cats, Data we tend to refer to as "Pants" which is short for 'Crazypants'. Seven we call "Tinycat" for obvious reasons (She's about a third of Data's size).


Well, she won't be tiny for much longer if she keeps up her food consumption. She will eat until the bowl is empty, so we're having to feed her careful amounts. As a result, she will follow us around, mewing piteously, trying to convince us that she is just simply STARVING! When we don't listen, she will try to feed herself. Data will often help her by opening the cabinet door for her, and holding them open, while she gets into the bag of cat food. We then tried leaving their bag of food into a wall cupboard, where, in theory, they wouldn't be able to get to it. Alas, all this accomplished was a lot of banging as they batted at the door from the counter top. So we've since put their food into the linen closet, which has a doorknob. All of their plans come to nothing for want of thumbs.


Seven, however, was undaunted! She had to check the sink area, in case we had forgotten some little tidbit of food she could gobble down. Mind you, there are a few dirty dishes in the sink... I'm bad, I know. But in any case, those dirty dishes lead to this conversation in the darkness of the bedroom while we're trying to sleep.


Darling Husband: *listening to the crashing sounds* They're on the sink again.
Me: I'll get them...
*come back with Seven and Data in tow and we all climb into bed*
DH: Oh hi, Tinycat... why are you sticky?!
Me: She was on the sink.
DH: Is that JELLY on her stomach?
Me: Probably...


Just another typical day in our madhouse.


PS:
I tried to embed a video here of the cats, but it seems to be too large. That's what I get for going with HD video, huh? Instead enjoy these photos of Seven in her Holiday sweater.

In other news I've decided to try to keep up with my attempts to lose weight. I feel like if I blog about it here, then I will accountable for my binges. So this will guilt me into sticking with the straight and narrow. So tonight I will take "Current Weight" photos, and then update once a month with photos of my weight fluctuations. Wish me luck!

Stupid, Beautiful, Little Face (Language NSFW)

Short blog post tonight. I just had this convo with my best friend via IM.

me: Data says "Mom, Y U NO IN MAGIK BLANKIE?"

(We bought an electric blanket and the cats worship it)

BF: lol I would love an electric blanket

I produce like no body heat

I've been getting morning snuggles from Pixi*. She lets me hug and squeeze and pet her for like an hour in the morning. It's not until she gets fed up with being snorgled do I get out of bed

me: Tinycat** is a jerk and will fuck with me until I get up to feed her chubby ass

Omg last night she was having The Mad Arena of Fun Times Hour on my god damned ass

BF: hahaha

me: I was laying in bed, on my stomach, trying to fucking sleep because it was yanno 3am, and she's doing some shitfuck crazy stuff on my ass, no where else on the bed, just my god damned ass

BF: bahahaha

that's so funny

me: And when I finally get fed up, and I get out of bed to do something with her, I look down and she's all happy eyed, staring at me, with her little sock-monkey cat toy in her mouth. And she looked SO HAPPY, like this guy...
http://aetheora.net/content/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/happy-puppy.jpg

So I couldn't be mad at her. I just kissed her stupid little face, and threw the stupid sock monkey down the hall for her

Damn cats. Okay, I will go play Skyrim now, but I promise to sit down on Thursday night or Friday and blog about London. 

*Pixi is my best friend's cat

**Tinycat is our nickname for Seven-of-Nine because she's still about the size of an 8 month old kitten after 2 years. I think it might be partly poor nutrition at the shelter before we adopted her, but I don't know.