cricket

Her story can be found here.

She’s 3-4 weeks old, 1 pound, and becoming more respectable looking.    We’ve managed to get most of the vegetation out of her hair.  She’s been wiped up with a grooming wipe.  Her face is no longer bleeding and her eye is no longer producing yucky stuff.  The paw we feared might be broken must have just been sore.  I know this because she’s using all four to climb, run and play today.

She got HM up 3 times last night to snuggle, eat, and potty.  Thankfully, she knows where the litter box is!  Today her schedule seems to be wake up, drink some KRM (kitten replacement milk), eat a bite of kitten food, potty, play for 15 minutes, drink some KRM, potty and then take a nap.

She’s also looking much more like a proper plump kitten.  Yesterday she looked so skinny it was scary.

Opal is reconciled to the fact that the kitten is staying.  Jake is still mighty curious and isn’t allowed to get too close.   He’s a little TOO curious right now.  He’s already slobbered all over her once.  It did not make her very happy.  He’ll learn — slowly I’m sure!

the newest disaster

The story as told by my daughter . . .

Today, as per my usual Thursday routine, I hopped on my bike to go down and clean church. This hardly qualified as my most pleasant ride: the rain that had so deceptively let up for 20 minutes before I left did not stay absent.

The neighbor who lives four houses down from us (in other words 1/10 of a mile) owns a couple dogs who do not particularly like my weekly trek through “their” territory. Mr. G is usually home and is very good about  keeping them in check. Today, however, he was not home. I was already a wee bit cranky about the drenching, and apparently Ebony (one of Mr. G’s dogs) was too. She came running alongside my bike, nothing unusual about that. What was unusual was when she reached over and sunk her teeth into my leg. My response was of course a yelp; I believe I yelled “Ouch!! Ebony, you bit me!” She slunk off back home; I made my way home as well, though a little slower than before.

As soon as Mom saw the injury, she rushed me back out to the drive way (but into the Mountaineer this time) and down to the doctors. We don’t know if Ebony has had her rabies shot, you see. At the doctor’s I had to fill out a report to the Health Department about the dog–well, I guess you could call it “dog attack”. Now when the HD comes out, Ebony will have to be put in quarantine, and if Mr. G can’t prove that she is rabies-free…they will have to put her down.

Mr. G took all this really well when we stopped on our way home to tell him. He was very sorry, very upset at Ebony and not the slightest bit upset at us (I’m really praying that he can find her rabies tag–I’d rather keep it that way).

the well-educated mind

The Well-Educated Mind:  A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had

By Susan Wise Bauer

“The Well-Educated Mind offers brief, entertaining histories of five literary genres–fiction, autobiography, history, drama, and poetry–accompanied by detailed instructions on how to read each type.  The annotated lists at the end of each chapter .  . .”

Since I love to read this should be an interesting and not terribly challenging exercise.    I’ll following her notebook plan and will post a short entry as I finish each book.

Fiction (the first four on the list)

1. Miguel De Cervantes, Don Quixote, 1605.
2. John Bunyon, The Pilgrim’s Progress, 1679.
3. Jonathon Swift, Gulliver’s Travels, 1726.
4. Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, 1815/

off to the wedding

the story of a dress

It all started out innocently enough.  An invitation came in the mail.  We replied that two would be attending the wedding.  Time went by and soon there were only two weeks until the wedding.

That was when I realized I had a problem.  Nothing fit.  Nothing appropriate anyway.  So I went shopping by myself.  I bought a cute skirt (bias cut, dark blue with maroon and cream) and a dark blue sweater.  I bought shoes.  (Did you know your feet get smaller when you lose weight?  I didn’t.)  CK and MA thought it looked nice.  HM wasn’t home.

I realized I had another problem when I showed HM.  She said it looked like a nice outfit.  But her eyes said “Houston, we have a problem.”   She was very polite, just very sure that we could find something “More your style.”

So we went back to the store.  She let me wander around.  She let me look at a few things.  All the time she is quietly putting my selections back on the racks.  Finally she says, “Let’s just get the money back and go to a nicer store.”

So off we go to a nicer store.  Here she begins to be a bit more assertive.  I got the distinct “NO Mother” look more than once.  She let me pick out a few things, she did some very nice redirects, and finally gave an approving glance at a few of my choices.

Now to the dressing rooms.  I am a forty something year old woman.  But I was accompanied to the dressing room by HM and an attendant.  While I was bravely trying on outfits I noticed they were talking in a conspiratorial manner.  Each outfit was poo-pooed until only one remained.  A little black dress with a short sleeved cropped red sweater.

I was told I looked very nice, quite nice, completely appropriate for the occaion, and then hurried away to the cash register.  I paid, received my dress, and directions for exactly what color jewelry to go buy next.  I was out of there with an outfit before I could change my mind.

I present the dress . . .

Maybe tomorrow a picture of me in the dress.  Maybe.

my momma told me

If you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all.

This firm foundation in manners is the cause for a lack of posts lately.  I am plum angry about something and every time I sit down to write a post I end up ranting.  So I am just not posting.

I am (however) ranting!  Just not publicly.

On a more positive note:

Kelly and I are going to an evening wedding in the “big city.”   This occasion required much spending of money because none of my clothes fit properly anymore.  I got a new dress and shoes.  Heels even!  HM is so proud.   I’ll take a picture before we hit the town on Friday to share with you all.

The purchasing of the outfit is a great story.   A great story for another day.  I feel the urge to rant coming back!

when ck was a boy