love is...

giving the dog a ham-bone, even though you are unabashedly a cat person.

Cleaning up dog sick this morning. What could he have gotten into? Oh, yes, the hambone...

Cleaning up great gouts of dog sick tonight while murmuring sweet things to the frightened dog, kicking yourself for freely handing him the bone.

Cleaning his kennel, scrubbing out all nastiness while the dog comes over for a pat, his eyes sorrowful and sad, leaning into you while you rub out smells.

No, wait a minute. That's not love. That's my stupidity, coupled with some duty and just plain old guilt.

Love is letting the poor dog stick his face in mine and burp.

Yeesh.

Why you should never use something given to you for blogging for a Christmas present. In one easy lesson.

One word: Floorspace.


Back in September, I got a very nice email from a company that specializes in eco-friendly playstuffs asking if I would like a cardboard, paintable playhouse for R.
Something she could play in and colour? Where did I sign?

It arrived promptly and I tucked it away under my bed for a rainy day project and forgot it.

Until Christmas Eve.

Bear and I spent about a half an hour putting it up. Santa tucked some stuffed animals inside, and we left it in front of the tree. Overnight, it grew (it did seem that way) and when we stumbled downstairs in the morning we noticed it...well, takes up most of the available floor space in the living room.

But she loooooves it. Slept in it the first night. Has painted and colour penciled all over it.

See?

It's a great hang-out for a little girl to dream in. But it's just too big for my narrow little house!
So: a word to the wise. If you're not good with picturing how big something is going to be from the dimensions listed, don't  use a freebie without planning. Even if it is a lovely freebie.

it must be Christmas break...

Because Good LORD,  my two have decided they are mortal enemies, MORTAL ENEMIES I TELL YOU, and that someone MUST BE STOPPED.

And no amount of 'Santa knows!' 'Santa sees!' 'Stop before I stuff YOU in a box!' is working.

I remember this: the sibling rivalry, how breathing the same air as your brother made you want to annihilate him for the simple reason he was there, how I swore up and down I would never, NO NEVER have more than one child because of all the horrible things my brother and I gleefully did to each other, and how I promptly grew up, forgot (whimper) all this, and had more than one spawn.

WHAT WAS I THINKING???

Truthfully (and now that the howling has (momentarily, I'm sure) ceased, I love them to bits and wouldn't change them for the world.

BUT.

Should school HAPPEN to open a few days early?

Their shiny keisters will be on the bus.

OH YES.

Well, that didn't take long

What's Christmas without a little extra something in the tree?

too busy to blog

But not too busy to have long, post-worthy conversations with myself. And definitely not too busy to miss it.

It's a rhythm, blogging. And sometimes I lose the thread of it.

Our Christmas tree is up, although it's unadorned and unlit - the two young cats have decided it's a giant toy that their humans put up, and have been popping in and out of the branches. Honestly, I may just leave it nekkid for awhile - watching Inky and Boo is more fun than worrying about ornaments plummeting to the ground.

Of course it will be a plastic/unbreakable Christmas ornament tree this year. I'll miss some of my favorites but not having to moosh (is so a word) all of them onto the tree will be okay.

I'm back where I was last year - staring down the barrel at Christmas as it roars toward me - and seriously I think I could give it a miss and I wouldn't mind. Not that I'm grinchy - peace on earth, good will to men, all that jazz - but I'm just so tired.


And, oddly, wishing for snow. (See, told you I wasn't right.)

I'll be back tomorrow. Because I miss y'all. And I miss blogging.