We've added to our family!
NO, I'M NOT PREGNANT. Don't even say it. Don't even think it.
Especially not when you see me at the neighborhood pool, because I'll lock in you in dank, stinky cell that is the pool bathroom, where some nasty little boy always forgets to flush.
First, there's this:
That's right. A container garden. THAT IS FLOURISHING.
Why did no one tell me that the key to raising plants is utter negligence?
That doesn't work with kids, right?
Anyway, I have something to help with self-entertainment of the teeny tiny sort, too.
Egads. She won't hold still. And the kids kept jumping into the shot.
It's like herding cats. And children.
Let's try that again.
No, that didn't work either.
Maybe if I pretend to walk away and enthusiastically call them all to follow me. I could be the Pied Piper of Yogurt Pops or something. Cats like yogurt pops, right?
Let's hope poor Kiki never has to find out.
There she is. And the Biscuit LUFFS her so. She has spent the last two days running around the house in her Hello Kitty underpants with a straw in her mouth, claiming she's a cat. And Kiki has been surprisingly gracious and chill about it.
My main questions when we adopted her from Petsmart:
1. Does she want to dash out the door, crawl through my air vent, claw up my carpet, and make my life a complete hell like some other cat I won't mention?
2. Um. Just #1, really.
The answer was "no", and it actually appears to be true. Dr. Krog picked our little moppet out because she was friendly, small, tabby, and reminded him of his favorite cat growing up, Slinky. And we named her Kiki because, a. We end up calling most cats keekee anyway, and b. They couldn't decide if her name was Kathryn, Karen, or Kathleen, so we thought going with multiple K sounds would be helpful.
I'm happy to be back in Catland. I can be a real writer, now that there's a cat to try to walk over the laptop keys while I edit.