Dropped Cat No 1

The Po cat.

This one fits well in the nice wooden frames we have stacked in the basement that we couldn't find artwork for, so I'm happy. 

It's hard to get the right perspective with my phone. 

If her head looks too large, it's because the angle is tilted. 

 3 more splayed rug-cats to go. A skinny, not-black one next, because whoa. Fat black cats are hard to give any definition to. Luckily this one lays with her tongue hanging out and has alarming nipples.

Designated Wet Blanket

I made a cake. It was a glazed lemon cake topped with fresh berries and whipped cream, and I think that proves that I am supportive of holidays and food. But I did not go to the beach and get sunburned along with everyone else on the 4th of July, and I did not go to the water park and get a neck injury like everyone else the following day. This is because we had a house guest and my introvert's power charge had been expended, and because I have been head-draggingly depressed for reasons related to an upcoming doctor's appointment, and chasing a seizure-prone toddler around slippery concrete was not an appealing holiday activity. REASONS, I told my mother. WET BLANKET, she replied.

So on Monday, I gathered the kids and took them to the Ice Palace for the borrowed child's last day of metropolitan adventure. And I was so determined not to be a wet blanket, and to not ruin my 2 year-old's childhood by Depriving Her of Life Experiences, that I folded under the gaze of the admissions lady and paid for a complete round of ice skates. This is ridiculous, I thought as I tugged tiny blades onto Zenny's feet. This is not a good idea, I thought as I secured her helmet and clomped to the ice rink. THIS IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER DONE, I thought as we clung to a walker and slid in a panicky circle around the kiddie area. Zenny tried to climb my legs, I tried to hold her up so we could exit faster, we struggled in place for a terrible half a minute, and then an alarmed ice-lifeguard grabbed us both and shoved us off the ice. I tossed the skates back onto the counter and bought some hot cocoa, instead. We watched the big kids skate, warmed our hands, and I mentally pared items off my shopping list to allow for the cost of my idiot toddler-on-ice endeavor. 

coffee filters; I can use paper towels 

sandwich things for work lunches; I can eat old cans of tuna with a fork

tea bags; old crystal light

pasta sauce; just dump cheese on it

It's all fine. The kids had a great weekend. Nobody got their fingers cut off on the ice rink. There is leftover cake. I am in some of the holiday pictures.

Here is photographic evidence of festivities and things being done.