Sunday, December 16, 2007
Love and marriage...
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
So hurry up! And bring your juke-box-money!
A friend recently emailed me a picture of the Mister and I cutting our usual rug at a friend's wedding. Now, while I know -- and my friend knows the context of this picture, a fresh pair of eyes might easily misinterpret this:
Why, if I didn't know better I'd think I was sassing my man something awful and he was about to get all domestic violent on my ass. (My, but aren't we dressed fancy for a disturbance!)
No, he was just telling me, and I him, in such an animated fashion, that -- Your WHAT? Tiiiiiiiiiinnnn roooooofff - RUSTED!
Why, if I didn't know better I'd think I was sassing my man something awful and he was about to get all domestic violent on my ass. (My, but aren't we dressed fancy for a disturbance!)No, he was just telling me, and I him, in such an animated fashion, that -- Your WHAT? Tiiiiiiiiiinnnn roooooofff - RUSTED!
Love me, love my cat(s).
I'm married. And so that automatically disqualifies me from sounding like/being the proverbial "crazy cat lady" ~ except that I am currently, to the best of my knowledge, childless ~ which, in times like these, does less for me in the way of convincing you that my cats are not the feline replacements for a human infant as a repository for my love, affection, attention and primary source of my social storytelling. And, sadly, another strike against me is that since my own recent birth into the digital age, the subject matter taking up the most room on my camera (other than my foray into the Civil War and our pleasure cruise to South America ~ neither of which resulted, either intentionally or un, you'll never know HA, in the creation of or otherwise illegal obtaining of a human baby for which to otherwise hog the rest of the digital space on my camera) is the cats.
Am I still able to feasibly convince you that I am not a 'crazy cat lady'?
Huh.
Really.
That sucks, because the whole rest of this post is funny, dare I say, ZANY pictures of my cats.
This is Hershey. She loves the Mister and could really do without me.
This is Bernini. He loves you because you're in his line of sight at the moment. And that's enough for him.
Hershey loves feathered things. It reminds her of her primal instincts that we pesky humans try to squelch in her.
Bernini lives and dies for a good box.
The Halloween costumes, much to my chagrin, didn't go over well with either of them.
Bernini's first sex ed class with a classy souvenir purchased in classy Cartagena. It's a flute. Ironically, this particular one doesn't whistle. You can blow and blow on it, and nothing. *insert obvious joke here*
They sleep when the sleepin's good and wherever the sleepin' strikes them.
Bernini is delighted we finally put up that big green cat toy that we bring out once a year.
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Phew. I stopped the post just as it was getting a little crazy cat lady on you.
You're welcome.
Am I still able to feasibly convince you that I am not a 'crazy cat lady'?
Huh.
Really.
That sucks, because the whole rest of this post is funny, dare I say, ZANY pictures of my cats.
This is Hershey. She loves the Mister and could really do without me.
This is Bernini. He loves you because you're in his line of sight at the moment. And that's enough for him.
Hershey loves feathered things. It reminds her of her primal instincts that we pesky humans try to squelch in her.
Bernini lives and dies for a good box.
The Halloween costumes, much to my chagrin, didn't go over well with either of them.
Bernini's first sex ed class with a classy souvenir purchased in classy Cartagena. It's a flute. Ironically, this particular one doesn't whistle. You can blow and blow on it, and nothing. *insert obvious joke here*
They sleep when the sleepin's good and wherever the sleepin' strikes them.
Bernini is delighted we finally put up that big green cat toy that we bring out once a year.*
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Phew. I stopped the post just as it was getting a little crazy cat lady on you.
You're welcome.
