The Perils of Working From Home

I have a lovely boss and the ability to work flexible hours, if needed. But as you can see from below, it's sometimes hard to actually get work done at home when 75% of the zoo feels they have to lay on me and/or the laptop. When it's over 100 degrees Farenheit outside. And I'm having a hot flash.

More Shawls

I'm calling this shawl I Wish I Was at the Beach; the pattern is the Miami  Beach Shawl--what clever construction. So soft, so squishy; I love this shawl!

I'm calling this one Seaside, but really it should be the Godzilla Shawl--the Cotton Ease yarn bloomed like crazy, so while the width is fine, the length of the shawl is 88 inches, when it should be in the 66-inch range. The Shawl That Ate My House! Love this pattern, too; it's Aqua Waves.

Nest Photos

Slate has a brief yet stunning slide show of birds nests. The colors, the close-ups--stunning is truly the only word.

I Learned a New Word

Crytoscopophilia = the urge to look in people's windows as you pass.

Oh, how I love to do this! Especially at Christmas time, so I can see how people's houses are decorated. I love to see what color the walls are painted, what kind of furniture they have, if there is a fireplace. I have absolutely no interest in the people who live there. I want the house to tell me its story.

You'd think all that loveliness I spy would inspire me to keep my house clean and neat for the people who have the urge to look in my window. Well, as you can't see the mess on the floor, it looks neat to someone peeping in, so hah!

Can you tell I've been sighing over pretty rooms in Better Homes and Gardens again? I just keep telling myself the owners cleaned like fiends and threw everything into the closets before the photographers got there.

PigeonSlayer Strikes Again

I was trying to shoo the boys inside because the arborist came to trim my storm-damaged pine tree. Mr. Big started to trot into the house with something in his mouth. Yes, another northern mockingbird fledgling. Somehow I got him to drop it on the ground, so at least he didn't eat this one. He and Cuddles keep going back to the spot where it rested on the ground to sniff for it.

Peanut butter removes pine sap from fluffy white sammy paws.
Need you ask me how I know?

The Three Amigos

Twelve paws and almost 200 lbs. of fur on the bed in the Element. Now that's what I call living!

Maybe they should be called the Goon Squad instead.

CatGirls

Just so you don't think I don't love my cats as much as my dogs.

Sweetest girl ever.

Yes, that's my milk she's drinking. At her age, she can do whatever she wants.

The one cat I've had who really is a cat.

See how skinny she is? But she's plucking away at life.

She may need me less than the other cats I've had, but she's her own personality.

Note the glass in the one photo--aluminum glasses just like Cioci used to have at the bungalow. Naturally I had to buy them when I saw them years ago, just to bring back memories from our summers down the shore every time I used them.

My Dog Locked Me Out of the House

Cuddle Muffin has a slight separation anxiety issue. He's okay alone in the house with Mr.Big, but when Biggie has to go to the vet, I can hear him crying from my driveway.The cats apparently are not worthy of companionship status.

He also gets very excited when his harness is on. As in, leaping around the house, slamming his body into cupboards, almost breaking the glassfronts in doors.

Sunday I harnessed the boys up, and then went out to get the ramp into the car ready for Mr. Big (the elderly gentledog needs a little assistance to get up into so high a vehicle; he has a lovely ramp that he trots happily up and down to do this). I could hear Cuddle Muffin crying with impatience and slamming into things. I hoped the cats were in another room.

I went to go inside, and the door was locked. Cuddle Muffin, in his exuberant jumping and scratching at the door, had locked the deadbolt.

My neighbor has a key to the security door, but not the deadbolt as I only lock that one at night. She'll be getting a copy of the deadbolt key this weekend.

Oh, what happened to me? Only a slight pause while I realized what he had done. Luckily, I had my keys on me, so after the slight pause, I started thanking God I had them on me. I will now not be going outside, even to check the mailbox, without my keys in my hand.

Really he should be called Stinker Muffin.