Purrealism

This baby kitty actually got to me. Usually, I can ignore a cat just about the same way the cat will ignore me. I'm allergic; cats are indifferent. It works for cats and me across this species divide if we just stay divided. But this baby kitty, this fluffy-wuffy itty-bitty baby kitty ... I actually caught myself about to take a deep breath to say "Awwww" at the bookstore checkout when I saw a calendar with kitties in sweaters or some such nonsense. I caught myself just in time. But I am making bad puns: "Purrealism"? It was almost "Art Mew-veau". Help.

Thanks, Karen, for lovely afternoon.

Wook at the way his wittle paw is playing with the paintbwush ...

Desperate Hausfrau

A lot is ending up in the trash these days. My recent designs look old and tired. They are missing that spark. I suppose I'm not as desperate as this poor girl, but she must have begun to look old and tired, too.

I'll come up with something. I think I'm getting close.

This photo looks like a creative writing assignment. Southern California and the trophy wife culture, something like that: It's just too tempting. I'll probably pull these photos up later.

Signs

Diana reminded me of an exercise in mindfulness with this post (this sign told her to "laugh"). This is what I found, looking for signs and directions where I might not otherwise expect to. To me, that first puddle is a butterfly.

Happy!

The raspberry Génoise cake would have worked better chromatically ... yes, darling, you will have Oreo Cookie cake, if that is your wish!

Happy Birthday, if it is your birthday, and Happy Day, if it's not!

FYI: sT Tuolumne dress, fabrics from Fabrichound and Banberry Place. Cake recipe? Add ten minutes discussion to 1 phone call. This caterer and restaurant is frequented by people who work in the nearby hospitals--people fully aware of the dangers of butter cream--if they are willing to take this risk, you know it's good!

Fungus, bugs, worms, scrub jays, squirrels, racoons, opossums! What to do?

My baby girl wished for a flower garden for her birthday. A flower garden? How about a pony instead? Or a Ferrari? Or a private Red Hot Chile Peppers concert MC'd by Johnny Depp? On the Eifel Tower?

A flower garden.

All right, a flower garden it is. My precious baby girl, a flower garden, just for you.

We'll need some help for this. Because it's not just water, sun, dirt and that scarey blue Miracle stuff. Even when you've got all that figured out, then come the craziest things: Fungus, bugs, caterpillars, scrub jays, squirrels, raccoons, opossums! We'll need some real help, my dearest child, for your flower garden. The from-the-flower-fairies kind of help. To let the flower fairies know they are welcome, we'll make them fairy houses.

We can make a fairy house out of just about anything we find in the garden: Twigs, vines, leaves, broken pieces of pottery or rocks. Anna added some seashells. I think the seashells were just the right magic, because in the morning, on her birthday morning, the fairies had arrived. These kitschy little opalescent glass drops really make the garden look like a fairy land at night. Once you show your child how to make a fairy house, you'll be surprised where they will pop up.

How about this remote control tarantula? When Miss Araneae was activated just as little fingers reached out to touch it, that girl's shriek probably scattered the squirrels for several hours. For several blocks. I hope this tough-looking green guy can protect the strawberries: We have night creatures which will bite holes right through drying wet suits.

Magic happens.

FYI: Figurines from Schleich.

Weekend Getaway

I went to IKEA and only spent $115! I managed to steer clear of ALL impulse buying. Those light up plastic birds almost had me. Almost, just $9.99 for matt plastic birds that lit up blue. But no, I was strong. I was steadfast. I was not swayed. I came for a purpose. I was mind over materialism.

I was with my husband.

That probably had something to do with no matt plastic light up birds among the light bulbs, dish towels and 365+ bowls and dishes.

This is kind of a special time in my relationship with IKEA. Both of my kids are between the magic lines on the tree that measures the heights of the kids allowed to go into the play room. 45 minutes of me time visiting all my Swedish friends: BILI, IVAN ... I can't remember all their names. IKEA and I have spent so little time together recently. My IKEA recently went through a small renovation and--what do I behold?--a sort of café with capuccinos and wraps and sandwiches and apple cake on the second floor. The view includes giant wire crates full of throw pillows and shoe trees, but a café and a capuccino with my husband nonetheless. The kids think we are off inspecting the plates for imperfections or debating light bulb conservancy. But no, not us! We played hooky from our domestic duties! We had apple cake without them. We all need a little time away, a little time to reconnect. While your chair is bumped and pushed by blue shopping carts whose drivers attention has been diverted by the throw pillows, but a getaway nonetheless.

Well, just 20 minutes before we must pick up...pick up ... there was something we needed to pick up. Oh yeah: our kids. Quickly, we scooped up the light bulbs, the dish towels, decided we could do without hand towels, picked up the funky spherical grill we came for and plucked out the two shaggy-headed blonde kids from the ball tank just in time. I hope there were no cake crumbs on me. I don't think the kids noticed anything, did they? Although my son did eye me suspiciously when I said he could go ahead and order the regular-sized portion of meatballs instead of the kids' plate.

Anyway, I rewarded myself for controlling my impulse buying by picking up two pairs of new shoes today.