May the Force be with You

Yoda the cat is sick. She isn't quite 900, but at almost 17, we think, it's probably pretty close in cat years.

She's always the canary in the coal mine whereas the sandbox is concerned, but even so, in the almost 5 years that I have known her, she has intentionally peed outside the box maybe 3 times. Well, make that 4 or 5. Last week, the box was bad, but the downstairs family room smelled horrible. So I let my nose do the walking and found 3 huge puddles of neon yellow, thick pee right in the spot where the girls run. This is classic Yoda. She usually will pick a spot where we will find it, although it's usually by Chris's things.

Anyway, I cleaned it up with all the special stink no more stuff, but I could still smell it, almost stronger. Moving some toys and heading west, I found it in the girls' play tunnel. Suffice it to say that if you were looking for a present for them, a new tunnel would be a good thing as the existing one is toast.

So why, do you ask, do I think it's Yods and not one of the other 3? Well, the a fore mentioned canary bit, and then a wholy cat behavior that I witnessed yesterday have pretty much sealed it. If any of you have had cats, especially more than one at a time, and one is sick or weaker, the dominant ones will shun it. In our brood, Frank is the alpha. So yesterday, the girls and I are in the basement playing and Yoda comes limping over (she's got some arthritis, probably from when she fell off the deck a few years ago). At the same time, Frank walked past and loudly hissed at her. Now Frank is not a hisser. I have only heard him hiss at Guiseppi when he is really ticking Frank off, or, back in the day when I had Lily and he felt she was the weakes link.

So she goes in tonight for the once over. Keep her in your thoughts. 16 is really old for a kitty and Yoda is a pretty special one. May the force be with you, Yods.

How I spent my Christmas Vacation

Yes, dear readers, the ring master had a whole week off over Christmas and New Years. Although I had many ambitious ideas of how to spend my time, the weather had other ideas for me. In the end, I only got one accomplished, but it was a big 'un!
Behold the fruit of my labor:
Yes, that's right friends, slowly but surely the monotone flesh colored walls are disappearing. And if this green looks familiar, it should. It is the same color as the living room at the old house. Chris and I combined forces to do this, too:


This is the pass-through room which we use as an office. We have also done the hallway and downstairs stairwell in a greenish khaki. Next up is the girls' room, which is going to be yellow, then the kitchen (the same color yellow as our old house living room), and our bedroom (in a lovely terra cotta). Our goal is to have a whole new palate by the time the girls' birthday party rolls around (which is scheduled for March 21-be there or be square).

A Most Humbling Target Experience

**Author's warning: this entry contains a graphic description last night's Target run...reader discretion advised. In other words, don't read this on your lunch break**

So here's a shocker: the girls had the stomach flu. I swear they NEVER get colds. I could put them naked in the snow for 40 minutes and they wouldn't get so much as a sniffle (Please note this is theoretical-I would never put them naked into the snow, so don't call Child Protection!).

Abigail started dry heaving at 2 in the morning Tuesday - I DID warn you - and was full-on sick by 6. But then after a few quick purges and a long morning nap, it seemed she had kicked the bug and was ready to run in circles and shove Sister with all her might. They both ate dinner like troopers, although understandably so, Abigail picked at her food a little more than normal.

We thought we were all good to take the weekly trek to Target for supplies. So we headed the roughly 5 blocks down and 9 blocks over to the local Super-store where we each grabbed our respective girl (I took Abbie, Chris took Ellie-this is a pattern that is almost a constant in every aspect of our lives) and a cart and negotiated through the aisles with our list.

Back at Casa de Gato y Ninas, we had promised the girls that we would look through the toy section if they were good. I wanted to hit the clearance aisles in clothing, as I had heard good things. We also wanted to take an inventory of toys as the girls' birthday is fast approaching and we wanted to sound intelligent, hip, and generally with it when people asked us what they could use in the entertainment area of their lives. Both girls did really well letting go of the Yo Gabba toys and the dolls and bike helmets that accumulated as we traversed the section.

Our main goals accomplished, we decided it was time to hit the checkouts and get home. So, Eleanor and Chris headed off down the main aisle with Abigail and I. We got about one aisle away from toys when I heard 3 things: SPLAT, expletive from Chris, and then Eleanor crying hysterically. I started to say, "What happened?" Chris loudly said, "STOP!" As I tried to stop, I started to slip and then finally looked down to notice that I was standing in a pile of puke. Abbie deftly said, "Uh-oh. Sister's crying. What's wrong Sistah? Oh. OOPS!"

The next few minutes were a blur, but I know I did call the operator. She didn't seem to be getting that "sick" equals ralphed all over your floor and snappy red cart, just in a gentler way. Finally, light dawned on darkened skies as she said, "OH! You mean she...vomited?" Apparently vomited is one of those words that like cancer and polyps, must be whispered so it doesn't affect you. Anyway, a red-shirted girl appeared almost instantly with a huge walkie talkie. We were, of course very apologetic to her, because every parent plans and hopes for A) their child to blow chunks in public and B) to have apologize profusely to the 16 year old kid who has to clean it up.

At this point, we switched babies and the still crying E and I headed for the bathroom and Abbie and Chris went to pay for our stuff. Well, after a difficult 3 minutes of gagging and wretching, I gave up trying to clean the poor girl up. As we exited the family restroom, I ran into the sullen kid who was sent to mop the floor in aisle 68, gave him our nasty cart and pretty much booked out of the store.

So there you have it Dear Readers, every parent's worst nightmare. Well, at least it's right up there with your dear child either swearing loudly or uttering family secrets in public. To be honest, I think I'd gladly take the F-bomb in church over public vomiting. Hopefully we never have to do that experience again, but knowing our luck, we probably will. Let's just hope that Tyler the cart attendant is off that night.