Weekend Wake Ups


Thanks to waking up at 6:30 on weekdays, I can no longer sleep past 9 on the weekends.

I know some of you might argue that is sleeping in, but in comparison to Mike – I’m getting up early.  Mike’s always been a night owl and I’m an early bird.  I get up, make coffee, and settle in front of the computer (shocking, I know) until I hear him stir. Then I usually go say good morning as he is such a Garfield about waking up.

But last Saturday I found this, around noon:

Apparently when I get out of bed, everyone else gets in bed!

And this guy? This is where he spends the night, anyways, on top of my pillow. If you try to move him, he gets all whiney and turns into a dead weight. 

I’m amazed there’s any room for me, at all!

Wordless Wednesday – Cozy Kitteh

cat in sweaters CrowndVic

A Week in Photos 7.31.11 — Newsies

This week’s photos are all about new toys & new adventures:

(new) Keurig love.
Need I say more?
Square love.
Our new everyday place setting.
(new) kitchen towels
2 more new gadgets
(hooray for finishing our wedding registry!)
Yin & Yang
I helped paint my yoga studio.
Nora, asleep, on the road trip.
You know you’re at Grandma’s house when…
(and then she told me to take home a lot of her vintage gorgeous pieces I fawned over)
Country dog.

Melonball, the forgotten cat

Smelly Melly is the last of my current pets to mention.  This is intentional and I have no problem owning up to the fact that Melonball drives me crazy.
Melonball’s sweet story of existence begs forgiveness for his antics.  In college a stray momma-cat, who shall be known as Pryn for obvious reasons, bore 4 itty-bitty kittens near a trashcan.  After watching her struggle to care for them for what seemed like weeks, one morning I found one of the poor babies dead.  At that moment the kittens became my cause.  A neighbor adopted one and my ex and I mercilessly stole away the other 2, whom he named the male MelonballER and I named the female Zoe.  The two little ones were so sick, stinky, and in need of more care than we could provide – so we took them to a local vet.  We surrendered them, but then two days later my ex decided he HAD to HAVE Mellonballer.
Fast forward to me inheriting Mel from said ex who thought he could own the cat, but whose roommate was allergic.  Mel’s extended vacation with me became his permanent home. Thus his name stuck and I never renamed him Sergent Pepper, like he should be named.
This little $hit of a kitten chewed threw wires, phone chargers, and cables and still survived.  He hides in the strangest places (lunges at the chance to get in the closet) and was even found in the fridge sitting next to the Brita pitcher one day (a funny story for another time).  Mel loves boxes, obsessively more than most cats, and refuses to consume anything beyond dry cat food with the occasional tuna binge.  He tried nursing off of Penny Lane (other MALE cat) for months before realizing it was futile, and adores the dog.  Mel’s urinary tract has cost me a trip to the emergency vet and an accumulation of over $1,000 in bills, yet he still begs forgiveness with his big kitty eyes.  And we can’t forget his loud mews as he races the kitty-500 in the middle of the night.

Mel, you drive me crazy, but you’re one funny cat.