This Was Actually Alexander’s Idea


And I’ve effectively thrown both my children under the bus.

I do hope there’s a therapist who waits under busses for children.

I’m Going to Attempt the Impossible


A few months ago I bought the world’s best bath towels. I only bought three of them because they cost an absolute fortune but the sales lady at Bloomingdales assured me they’d be worth it. Here we are six months later and those three towels have held up extraordinarily well even with insane overuse because they quickly became our favorites. To be fair they were replacing some incredibly moisture resistant (also not inexpensive) towels I’d purchased from Restoration Hardware.

Last week Bloomingdales had one of their zillion dollar off sales and the Abyss bath towels were 40% off from $90 each so I was only mildly apoplectic when I bought a half dozen towels and a handful of wash cloths. When we were newlyweds and dinosaurs roamed the Earth my sister in law bought us a set of Christy Egyptian Cotton bath towels that are only just falling apart. Sometimes it’s actually frugal to buy the high end items.

Abyss Bath Towels

After laundering the new towels it was time to put them away and get rid of the junk. I also found an old sleeping bag and a comforter that no one will ever need. Monday morning I stacked the towels and the blankets on a sofa and planned to bring them to the animal shelter where they can be put to good use.

Now I have a big problem. The last time I was at the animal shelter I came home with her.

Sparky the cat

It took me a while but I’ve come to love and appreciate her. In all candor I do love Junior more but every time I hang out with the cat (not that often because she despises the dog) I think to myself, “Hey I could have another cat. This is pretty awesome and easy.”

It’s now Wednesday and there’s still a pile of crap on my sofa but I’m pretty sure today is the day that I am able to go to the animal shelter to drop something off without bringing something home.

Wish me luck.

towels sofa

Making Johnnycakes for the Cat


This morning Alexander and his class presented their fifth grade signature projects. Each of the kids had a figure from the Revolutionary War that they did a report on and earlier in the year they did a Walkthrough Revolution. This morning there was a chapel and each of the kids told us about their figure in history. It was really interesting. There was one woman who dressed as a man so that she could fight in the war. When she was injured a doctor discovered that she was, in fact, a she. This woman was given a full pension and retired from the service. I like ten year old girls learning that stuff.

Alexander’s state was Rhode Island and he wanted me to make Johnnycake. You can make them like pancakes (too labor intensive for an early morning) or like a cake. Here’s the recipe:

Boil 2 cups of water and slowly add in one cup of white cornmeal.
Reduce to a high simmer and stir for 5 minutes
Turn off the flame but leave on the burner and stir in:
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp butter
Transfer the batter to a greased cooking pan and bake at 350 for 45 minutes

I tried this recipe last night and since it requires about 65 cents worth of ingredients I figured I’d do a trial run and then make a batch in the morning. After 10.30 I about passed out and left a pan of Johnny Cake in the kitchen. I woke up to this.

I swear I forget that I have a cat. I’m so used to Junior not being able to reach anything, not even a sofa, that it doesn’t occur to me to put things away.

At 6am I wandered downstairs to make a fresh batch of Johnnycakes and saw cat hair on my kitchen counter and that the buttery glaze of last night’s trial had been licked clean off. Chunks of the cake were missing, some had been swatted around the kitchen floor. It’s fun to mop in the morning. That’s why I had a family. I’m waiting for her to puke somewhere in the house. I’m convinced she just ruins my stuff and vomits to let me know how very much she hates me.

Random: have you ever heard those squeaky mouse toys? You know why they work so well for cats? Because when Sparky has brought half dead mice into the house to torture them before killing them and presenting them to us they sound just like those squeaky toys.

Isn’t that lovely?


The Killing is Officially Out of Control


This morning when I went to wake Jane Sparky was curled up her bed. Sparky does not sleep with Jane, and we know that the last time Sparky slept with Jane there was not a happy ending to the story.

This morning was no exception. Although Jane’s sheets are lime green with white and green, there are no flecks of black. The flecks of black you see on the bedsheets are actually feathers. And the red? Well, I’m assuming it’s blood, but since we didn’t find a bird body to go with the wings the evidence against the homicidal manic is strictly circumstantial.

Sparky the Cat and her latest kill a bird


Remember the Bird Nest on my Kitchen Window: The Good Luck Nest?


I was so excited when a bird settled in on my kitchen window. I thought it was a good omen. The only one who got lucky was Sparky.

Sparky’s kill list is long.

Last Wednesday night Sparky slept on Jane’s bed. This is odd, because Sparky never goes into Jane’s room, she sleeps with Alexander. By way of explanation Jane’s bedroom is the first bedroom you’d encounter after walking upstairs.

Jane then slept out on Thursday and Friday nights. As is our habit we close her bedroom door when she’s not home. It makes us miss our kids less. On Thursday morning I grabbed something from her room and realized it stank like soccer gear. Shin guards can be horrendous. I texted her, “I hope you’re having fun, but your bedroom smells like something died in it.” and then I closed the door.

On Friday morning the window washers came. They were here to wash all the windows except the one with the bird nest on in. You can see how well that turned out. I went upstairs with them and opened the door to Jane’s bedroom.

It was not the smell of shin-guards. Sparky darted into the room, went under the bed and started purring louder than a jet engine. She was puffed up and delighted with herself.

The other thing that was puffed up in the room was the rat. The dead bloated rat that Sparky had put under Jane’s bed.

Fast forward a few tears, double plastic bags, carpet cleaning and a $50 tip to the window cleaner who brought the dead animal to the trash can.