Photos from last weekend.
This is my MIL’s cat. This is the first cat, I think ever, that is not a fan of me. However, he’s about as close to a feral cat as a house cat can get and is not a fan of anyone/anything, and this last weekend I realized that all of the (weird) cat-behavior articles I’ve read online (don’t judge me!) were right about this cat. I started never looking at him, ever, and approaching him with my head turned away.
I think we became friends. Or, he didn’t threaten to kill me and played with me. It was a big step, since three years ago this cat gave me scar tissue on my chest that had to be frozen off due to cancerous possibilities. Evil! And yet, we bonded!
I think you can get an idea of his personality from these. It felt like I was sneakily trying to photograph a lion on hallucinogens.
We got to the stadium four or five hours before the game (so we could get in line early to get our free jerseys). It was chilly after snowing all morning, and I came home with a wind burnt forehead. AND! I came home with this, for my soon-to-be-born nephew, because I could not help it. I think it’s sort of awful, which made me like it even more. (I fully expect my unborn nephew to share my terrible sense of humor about clothing.) (Don’t judge me!)
This is my husband, tailgating. He is manly.
He loves the Royals.
This is me tailgating. I am wearing four or five layers here, and seem to be deeply contemplating the wet parking lot while holding an RC cola in a very Montgomery-Burns-ish way. I know how to party. Exxxxxcellent.
When we got home we saw this by our front door. First spring flower!
Yesterda after work it looked like this:
Suprise Tuesday question! How much do you spend on handbags? What if you need to buy a handbag that you will carry every day, every where, at work/on weekends? And it needs to be able to contain the following: a tape measure, a work binder, a notebook/sketchbook, a camera, ten billion tubes of lip gloss, photos of dogs, sometimes a novel, sometimes a crossword book, pens, and large sunglasses. And my wallet, of course. And I guess a damn cell phone. And not only how much is reasonable (I was raised with a healthy respect for clearance racks, and am pretty sure I have never paid more than 20 dollars for a bag, or maybe 17), but where can I find cute relaxed-but-professional (no canvas, alas) bags with shoulder straps? Seriously! Why do bags not have long cross-body shoulder straps anymore, unless they are made of the stuff wind-breakers are made of? WHHHHHHYYYYYYY?
This is what happens when you break your purse. You go to your blog in desperation, after spending a weekend looking for a bag. After, of course, muttering in your head, that maybe the universe doesn’t even WANT you to have a bag.
Spring!
black sheeped
