Youtubing

Misc. News

Proof that your cat is eating too much:

And introducing: The Yard Panthers

Ever since last year when four little kittens started coming around, we've had a flurry of feline activity. Besides the one semi-evil-but-very-cute one that we ended up kidnapping and bringing inside (see photo above), there were three of his siblings that we continued to keep tabs on, and have been feeding since the weather turned bad. We have dubbed them The Yard Panthers, and have had an interesting time watching them grow up and develop as mostly feral additions to the family.

The two calicos (Einstein and Glitch), which I presume are females, tolerate our presence and will eat at our feet as long as we don't move around too much. And the black male (Bo) loves to be talked to, and is able to be handfed as long as you watch out for the long distance paw swipe that sometimes accompanies it. Sometimes he gets so excited and happy when we speak to him that he curls his neck and falls over with delight - which I would find weird if Merlin didn't do the exact same thing. Hereditary strangeness in action.

And then from a nearby fall litter, this little guy started showing up (Bo, Jr., otherwise known as simply 'the Baby'). He is turning my experience of taming stray cats to a new level, because unless I've captured them early on and isolated them to earn their trust with food, I've never been able to tame them before.

The Little One, on the other hand, threw a wrench into what I thought was possible with a feral cat. At first he would start purring loudly while he watched us, and then he started getting closer little by little. Then little meows as he pranced around our feet, but still darting off if our hands appeared too close.

Within the past few weeks, he is now letting us pick him up, rub and pat him all over, and practically rushes us when we open the door, all initiated by him. What surprises me is that he has always been fed regardless of this, so it's not a matter of manipulation. Self-domestication has to be a rare thing. But, cute and soft as he is, he is keeping his freedom. Merlin is jealous enough just watching us pet him through the window.

And this morning, he was gorging on a mole bigger than any I've seen before. That will come in handy this spring. I'm going to start showing him where the garden is as soon as the snow thaws.

And I had to throw in a shot of the position I found Brent sleeping in the other day. You can't tell from the angle, but his butt is about a foot higher than his head. No matter how I clean the room before bed, this is what it usually looks like when he is finally through rolling around all night - stuffed animals on top of and underneath him, blankets piled in strange places.

Other news! The trundle bed I ordered for the boys came in last week. That and a couple new mattresses finally replace the temporary beds they were using the last few weeks. Topped with new Spongebob sheets and a couple of five year olds that don't want to go to bed on time, the room is finally shaping up. Now if I could only get them to stop whispering and giggling for an hour after I leave the room...

We've begun reading before bed as well - their first big book. Each night we make our way through a few more pages of "White Fang", by Jack London - a favorite of mine when I was young. This is usually how it begins:

Me: Okay, so I'm going to start reading. Does anyone have anything they absolutely need to say before I begin?

Brent: Can you read the part where he poops himself again?!!!! (Loud laughter from both, as I glare at them and wait for them to settle down)

Me: No...anything else?

Alex: Can we play Super Mario Brothers in the morning?

Me: I already said no more talking about games. Anything else? (They have grown bored already, and play with anything within reach)

Me: So we're ready to start? Because I don't want any interruptions this time. Brent - I'm talking to you here.

Brent: No, I'm fine! Alex: I'm fine too!!!

Me - reading.

After 5 words, Brent raises his hand. I keep reading, my voice growing irritated since this same thing happens EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Me: Brent! We're not going through this again. What do you want?

Brent: Can I have cereal for breakfast in the morning?

Me: I'm not answering any questions that don't have to do with wolf cubs.

Brent: Pretty please?

Me - reading, with patience meter shrinking.

10 words later, Brent starts slinking toward me, trying to smile cutely. I avoid looking at him, but finally snap at him to lay back down.

Brent: But I really need to ask something!!

Me: This better be good...

Brent: Why do stars only come out at night? And why do grownups get to stay up later than kids? (Both questions have been answered a dozen times already)

Or some similar question. It never fails. And so it goes until I finally have enough and threaten to take away games for the next day, after which he will afford me maybe a couple pages of peace, and we drift off into a world of wolf litters and snowy landscapes. And harrowing as it is at times, it is my favorite time of the day.

Hee Haw

For some reason, the videos are compressed and running fast, so I'll translate:

Why did the tape measure go to the wedding?

What? Why am I marrying a tape measure?

(I didn't say it made sense)

Similar joke, but this time it's a stick going to a wedding.

Butt boogie dancing!!

Breaking Free

Well I dug a path out to the end of the driveway with a gameplan of getting the top of the hill dug out. That way if I manage to get my car free today, it would give me a place to stop before I went out onto the main road. Our driveway is constant uphill all the way. But it took 4 or 5 shovelfulls to get to the bottom of each spot. So I made a path to the top (a long way away), and managed to get a 20 x 8 foot section cleared up there. Every so often I would stop and stare at the slow progress, and send out intentions for someone with a tractor to ride by and take pity on me.

By the time I was done, our neighbor was heading over with his little bobcat, having run out of places to play in his own driveway, so I consider it a success!

I also figured out that I'm officially TOO OLD to be doing this sort of thing.

The boys are making the best of indoor time (see doodles above), though we'll probably be heading out in a bit for some playtime. Hope everyone else is faring as well!

Buried

The snowmen children got a bit more snow, and then it was over. Hard to tell how much, maybe close to a couple feet. It's been blowing so much, and some of it came down as ice. The storm was so powerful and slow moving. So many people have lost power, and we feel fortunate to still have ours. Hundreds of thousands of homes tonight are in the dark and cold, trusting in the system to provide electricity soon.

I could wring the neck of our system sometimes, watching politicians playing games with numbers instead of the people behind them. But the truth is, there's nowhere else I'd rather be, because at times we take for granted all the stuff that goes right. There are a thousand miracles in every day, even those that contain hardship.

A few minutes ago, as Brent and I are laying there creating songs about snowflakes, in our warm room with our full bellies, I feel among the luckiest inhabitants on this harsh and beautiful planet.

15" and still heavy

I like this one the best, because the flash off the snow made it look like a perfect starry sky.

Five minutes in the life...

You have not seen a fashion show until you've seen one invented by two five year old boys. Instead of hoop skirts and fairy wands, it involved a Home Depot tool set. They carefully aligned the plastic wrenches and screwdrivers to form the sides of the runway. I fitted Brent into his tool belt, and off they went, drills and hammers in hand.

They talked me into one trip down the lane, over my pleas that I was just one of the judges (there's only so much I'm willing to participate in before 7:30 in the morning). I wielded the drill like a champ, the perfect compliment to my frumpy green nightgown du jour. I was awarded 1 million points from Alex, and 238 from Brent, which allowed me to go anywhere in the world I wanted. Yippee!

I finally convinced them that I was better suited for the audience, and settled in to watch the performance. Unlike most traditional fashion shows I've glimpsed, this one bore an obstacle course of nuts and bolts that required special ninja moves in order to progress. Suddenly Brent broke free of the runway, and offered me a selection of magic potions - love, sun, water, and jungle. It took me two guesses before I picked the 'right' one, and I was handed a bright orange T-square.

He turned around and gasped. "Alex! What happened!?"

Alex was spinning on the floor, the once neat walls of the runway now scattered. "The builders came in while you were gone Brent. They're destroying everything!!". Brent had an expression of disbelief, "You mean our team?" "No" Alex said, "The bad guys!!".

Brent stood in a hurry, hands raised in horror. "Hold on to your underpants!! The bad guys are here". They both reach into their pajamas and literally hold their underpants while making a couple quick trips around the room, whimpering in mock fear.

At this point, the part where I comprehend what's going on goes to low visibility. They scurry about, with dramatic hand gestures and various sound effects. There concoct an impromptu magical fight scene - fire beams shoot loudly from their fingertips, bombs explode around their feet.

Brent plays dead in the middle of the floor, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth. I intervene to get them to gear back the violence, suggesting that they go talk to the bad guys instead of resorting to bombs and lasers. Brent slowly rises up. "I-am-the-ghost-of-Brent. I-cannot-hear-people-talking-to-me" and takes off slowly, arms in true mummy fashion in front of him, walking with a zombie limp. Alex shrieks "Hold onto your underpants!" and feigns horror. Brent loses character focus and chides Alex "I don't HAVE any underpants, ALEX. I'm a ghost. REMEMBER!". You can almost hear the 'duh!' that he left off the end. "I am the ghost of all things poopy!" he exclaims next. And at that they both giggle from deep in their bellies and lose all sense of the game.

And another day begins...