A Few Quickies
Though I have a longer entry in mind touching on recent interesting events in the household and holiday reminiscences and all that jazz, I'm not ready for it yet. Please don't cry; I know you wait with bated breathe for my next entry novel. I do have these noteworthy tidbits:
- The GURU reigns true and mightily as always forevermore and tomorrow! Thank you so much for finding the requisite secret places. And curses on the wretched hackers who try to plague your existence. I spit on them; phhhht.
- The Cativity is ON SALE! Hurry now before the limited supply of "sweetly sculpted polyresin" has been depleted!
- This item has taken away any vestige of what scant innocent memories remain from my childhood.
"Candy" Bra
Moreover, it does NOT look very supportive. And I feel bad for the person who had to Photoshop® her nipples from between the rows of candy beads that make up this "sexy candy lingerie." Less is more when it comes to hair products for one's Kitten Children.
Today I bathed them - after cutting their claws and shedding them - they still are keeping their distance from me.
I still find the incongruity of the fact that my Kitten Children are completely fascinated by the bathtub and/or shower yet you'd think that giving THEM a bath was medieval torture at its best (worst?). They want to watch ME bathe. They'll even drink soapy bathwater (yuck). They want to chase water from three ounce bathroom cups down the drain (I should explain this game some time). But God forbid I get THEM completely wet.
So suffice it to say, despite my Father's firm belief that any respiratory distress is caused by the Kitten Children (as opposed to POORLY TREATED ASTHMA - and PETTING THE KITTEN CHILDREN AND THEN RUBBING ONE'S EYES AND NOSE AND SUCH - WHICH IS JUST STUPID), I gave in to his badgering and attempted Operation Feline Bath (and if you don't think it's a major to do you've never bathed a cat).
I got all five thousand towels at the ready, as well as their shampoo and Kevlar body armor for me (I wish). Then I got the BRILLIANT idea that since they get dandruff, especially when it's so cold and dry, I should use the same treatment I use when I think my scalp is dry. My strategy is so use copious amounts of jojoba oil (theoretically the most like the natural oils in one's skin). So I dumped jojoba oil on each FURIOUS Kitten Child and tried to really work it in. Oh how they loved that. Then I did the regular shampoo and rinse (and desperate wrestling while attempting to keep my voice soothing and evenly-modulated). I snuggled them in towels and tried to get them to sit by their favourite heating vents. But - OH - they were having none of it. They wanted to go far, far, far away from me and then "re-bathe" themselves (which somewhat defeats the whole purpose of the "allergy" wash since saliva is usually the most severe feline allergen anyway).
Later, when I did catch a glimpse of each Kitten Child's wee, resentful face, I realized that the simple shampoo would have been best (not to mention it would have made Operation Feline Bath SHORTER). They look like greasy porcupines. And you can tell that they detect a residue on their fur that they cannot seem to lick off (and I tell you - they are being persistent). I'm hoping the oil soaks in and they feel so luxuriously moisturized that they love me all the more. Or ever again.
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At least you didn't write "baited" breath, which is something I see all too often and which makes me sigh and roll my eyes. Very much akin to the silly "I poured over a book."
As for the wee upset but presumably freshly scrubbed Kitten Children faces, my first thought was "WHAT! NO PICTURES?" and that thought was quickly followed by another, "SHIT! Maybe if I sent her that camera I promised!"
That camera is here; but it requires a new memory card - a multimedia card, to be exact, because it ceased to work with the San Disk cards for which it was designed.
And I don't want to send you the camera without a functional card.
That was a close one. I did, I confess, almost say "baited breath." No kidding. I quite like the phrase, actually, and find it far superior to "pouring over a book." But each to one's own.
I could have taken photos with my Dad's camera (or my camera phone, which is not the worst in the world), but the Kitten Children were making themselves...what's the superlative form of scarce?
Fiona has only now (over six hours later) condescended to timidly sit on the desk while I type. Maybe I should still try to capture the look. The appear a little less "greasy porcupine" now and more like I tried to coif them with "product" (the "glue" type for the "spiky" type do).
As for the camera; you are too sweet! If you really are willing to send the camera I will receive it with delight, but PLEASE don't worry about the card. Remember that I DO NOT live in the middle of the country and have access to Costco and all other sorts of places where they sell all sorts of cards for good prices. Am I correct in assuming it took SD cards and now takes "MMC" ones (or something like that...)? Seriously, no big deal (especially in light of the NOT haute couture I sent you - should get there soon).
Right before I read the comment below the candy bra picture, I said to myself "Man, that must have taken FOREVER to photoshop those nipples out..." Hehehe.
Also, I had to bathe Truman many times in your mom's kitchen sink. It was the opposite of fun, but Shirleen helped me out a lot - she is AMAZING! She never even got scratched - not even once. But although Truman hated the actual bath part, she loved the wrap up in a towel and cuddle with mommy part. It was so cute, she always sat and purred. But yes, as soon as I unwrapped her, she went to town giving herself her own bath. I used to imagine her saying to herself, "Stupid humans can't even give a proper bath."
I think the phrase you sought was "extremely scarce."
You're welcome.
As for the MMLCVXX card (are you good at Roman numerals? Do you hate it when TV shows show them in their credits, and you can't figure out which century it is?) I was really thinking of the scarcity -- or extreme scarcity -- of liquid money funds in your pocketbook.
I'll just package up the camera, then. Mit case and strap (I tried to pry the strap off, because my Olympus lacks a strap, but no luck there...).
As for this mysterious low-fashion package, I can only think: socks.
I had to take a nap today, and I dreamed that you'd sent me a small, plain-looking nightlight in the mail.
Upon closer examination, the nightlight turned out to be a transformer-type toy. I was busy transforming it into an action figure when I woke up.
Terry! You invented something in your sleep! You could make MILLIONS (or hundreds, depending on whether we're talking about Canadian or American money)!
Socks. That strikes me as really funny, for some reason. Yes, it's socks - MAGIC socks.
Okay - NOT socks. Though I'm realizing that the Global "Priority" which ostensibly arrives in "two to three days" means days that have bonus minutes stuffed into them at no extra charge - MEGA DAYS!!!
I even HANDED the package to the postal carrier. It had all the correct forms and so on clipped to it, and a thoughtful sticky note asking if the postal carrier had one of those self-adhesive envelopes in which to PUT the forms. He rang the doorbell that day (as it was a banner day for my Mom's catalogs - not too unusual). He said that he thought the clerk would know JUST what to do with it.
Hah. The postal carrier has no doubt broken FEDERAL LAW and is now adorned with your non-haute-couture gift. Bastard. Never fear, I have a TRACKING NUMBER. We'll get him yet.
P.S. It's NOT a candy bra. I had not discovered that item yet. There were still innocent childhood dreams in my head...
I so SUCK at Roman numerals. I know we were taught in grade school which letter was fifty and so on, but get me past - hmmm, let's see, XXXXIX - and I'm screwed. (That is forty-nine, yes? All those with more Roman numeral Skeelz must tell me...)
HAH! We are definitely the nipple cousins, Jennette. Wait - that sounds a little off. Then again, you did like to run around STARK NAKED at our house when you were a young one. In case you were wondering, you won't EVER live down the sunburnt butt. That's just the way of things.