* * * Currently reading: The Undomestic Goddess, by Sophie Kinsella. I really do like Kinsella’s books. The Shopaholic series started to seem very much the same after a while, but I still enjoyed them. Good chick lit, and I need something kind of lighthearted to cheer me up after reading… Finished last night: Night, by Elie Wiesel. And y’all shut up and don’t tell me Oprah’s leading me around by the nose. She is NOT, I just looked at the description after she announced it on her book club, and I thought I should read it. It’s such a sad heartbreaker of a book; I recommend it. Also recently finished: Killing Yourself to Live, by Chuck Klosterman. Pretty good book, actually. Another one I wasn’t particularly looking forward to, but ended up enjoying it despite myself.

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So, I don’t think I mentioned that Saturday morning Fred asked if I wanted to take a trip to the flea market and wander around for a while. I was up for it, so we got ready and went. We ended up with socks for Fred, a toy for the cats (but of course!), a book for both of us, and a Figure Skating National Championship tape for me (one dollah!). Altogether we spent less than ten dollars and came away with something for everyone. Well, except for the spud, who was at home, still sleeping. That’s the beauty of when kids get older, you know. You can go out and do stuff while they’re still home sleeping UNTIL NOON, and not have to worry about them, because if there’s a problem they’ll call on your cell phone. And to think that I can still remember the day when she couldn’t pour her own cereal… (This is where Fred would make a joke about how that was just last week) Fred dropped me off at home and then went back out to the movie store to see what he could find for us to watch that night. When he came home, he had not only some movies, but also a balloon from the grocery store near the movie store. See, Fred’s mother and stepfather sent me flowers and balloons the day I came home from surgery, and there was this one mylar balloon that was just – almost two weeks after I got it – starting to die. Tommy likes to play with the balloon – well, to be specific, he likes to grab the ribbon and run around with the balloon trailing behind him. The ribbon on the balloon Fred had purchased at the grocery store was pretty long, and since we didn’t want to worry about the cats getting ahold of it when we weren’t around (because I think we all know that we’d end up with Tommy running around with the balloon sticking out of one end of him, and a ribbon sticking out the other) Fred snipped it. And then he tied a loop into the end of the ribbon, because Tommy sometimes has trouble getting ahold of the ribbon (do you see how we bend over backwards to make sure our cats never ever have to suffer one moment of frustration?), and the loop seemed to be a big hit. Tommy grabbed it and ran around with it in his mouth for the longest time. And then Fred thought it would be funny to put the loop around Mister Boogers’ neck to see what he’d do. Mister Boogers chewed at the ribbon a little, and then batted at the balloon, and then figured out how to slip the loop from around his neck, and the cats sat and watched as the balloon floated to the ceiling. THEN, Fred had a Very Good Idea. He put the loop around Sugarbutt’s neck. Sugarbutt started to walk away, and the balloon followed him, and Sugarbutt stopped and shot the balloon a dirty look as if to say “I see you following me. Is there something I can do for you?” The balloon bobbed gently about, and Sugarbutt walked away again, and again the balloon followed. Sugarbutt stopped again, and again another dirty look. “Stop following me,” Sugarbutt said. “Or I shall call the gendarmes and they shall kick your ass all the way back to Paree.” The balloon bobbed gently. Sugarbutt sat down and began busily licking his nether regions, perhaps hoping that the balloon would get bored and go away. He finished his grooming routine and began chewing on the ribbon hanging off the balloon, as if to demonstrate that the balloon’s presence did not disturb him. When he was sure that the balloon had gotten the message, he stood up and began walking toward the window. The balloon followed. And Sugarbutt lost his shit. He ran in circles around the dining room. He ran from the dining room to the computer room, to the dining room again. The entire time his ears were flat back on his head, and his eyes were wide and dark. I wanted to catch him to help him, but he was moving so fast – and I was so weak from laughter – that I couldn’t do a thing. Finally, he ran upstairs, and Fred ran after him while I sat in the computer room and laughed until I cried. Fred came back downstairs about ten minutes later, the balloon in his hand, the ribbon on the balloon frayed at the end. “Did he chew that off?” I asked, impressed. “No, I think it got caught on something and tore. I found it under our bed, and Sugarbutt’s under the spud’s bed with the loop still around his neck, and he won’t come near me.” Poor Sugarbutt. I immediately felt bad for laughing at him… until I remembered the wild look on his face, and started laughing again. Sugarbutt ended up hiding under the spud’s bed for a good hour or so before Fred could convince him to come out and have the ribbon removed from around his neck. And when he did venture downstairs, any time there was the slightest unexpected noise he’d shoot behind the couch and hide. At one point he climbed up into the couch and couldn’t get back out again, requiring a rescue from Fred and the spud. Mid-afternoon, the spud cleaned her room (!), and when she came downstairs with a couple of trash bags full of trash and stuff she wanted to get rid of, Sugarbutt heard the sound of the trash bags rattling, and I’m sure he thought it was a gang of balloons, out to kick his ass, and he ran behind the couch and hid for a few hours. I was concerned that he’d be a skittish kitten for the rest of his life and that we’d ruined him, but as of yesterday afternoon, he was back to his old self. Thank god, ’cause I sure do like his old self!
Brudderly love. Sugarbutt figured out how to get on top of the refrigerator, and now it’s his favorite place to hang out. Snack time! Spanky’s such a pretty boy. Lookin’ guilty.
All of today’s uploaded pictures (including the ones above) are here.
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Previously 2005: “I wasn’t worried,” Fred said to me. “Because any party where the invitation suggests bringing Dance Dance Revolution pads is not one that’s going to get out of hand.” 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Be our valentine, bitch! 2001: Could this get any more exciting, talking about the weather? 2000: Is it wrong that hearing about that incident gives me a whole new respect for Maria?]]>