(This picture is not me. Just sayin’.)
I sometimes think that Sammy (Cat #1) tries to punish me by sitting in my dining room chair and refusing to move.
Why would she be longing to punish me? I don’t know. Maybe I don’t change the cat litter often enough? Maybe I don’t pet her enough? Maybe she’s mad because Chai (Cat #2) is allowed to sit on my desk but she is not? (She is not allowed to sit on my desk because when she does sit on my desk, she get all up in my grill and screams for pets, whereas Chai has figured out how to sit/lie on my desk without getting in my way. Smart Chai.)
Whatever. When I really need that chair, I just dump her out of it. Sometimes I have to dump her multiple times before she gets it that I want to use it. I don’t think she’ll ever be a Nobel Prize-winning cat.
But never mind that. (What am I thinking, wasting your time nattering away about my cats???)
I just wanted to slip in here and let you all know that I survived Christmas.
As old as my kids are, you wouldn’t think that would be a problem, would you? It was kinda sad, actually.
I got Ricky a new motherboard but I didn’t realize that he has an AMD CPU, so I got him an Intel board. Needless to say, I’m returning the thing and getting a refund and a different motherboard. And, just to play it safe, I’m also getting him a new CPU — his current one seems old enough to remember Windows 95 — as part of a package deal.
BUT none of that matters to him in the least because I also got him new headphones and that was enough to actually inspire him to give me a hug.
(If you knew Ricky, you would know how amazing that is, all by itself.)
Found this on HuffPo. Artwork by the awesome Roman Jones
I adore all my children but I will confess there is a very special bond between me and my daughters that is a lot than mere shared gender. They were with me, there in the crucible, and we three strode through it together in ways their brother could not share — and frankly, I would not have wanted them to. That my daughters were forced to share it was bad enough.
To say I love my girls would be a sad understatement but there isn’t a word in the language that would describe it accurately. And in the meantime, much as I love them, I still occasionally get to make fun of them.