Okay go!
Yesterday morning, Delia, not satisfied with the schnibbens of kat fuud in her dish displayed a bit of sass and bossiness.
See, before I left for the doctor's office on Monday, I emptied the plastic thingy we keep their food in. I had a new bag of kibble for them, but wanted to wash the plastic thingy before refilling it. The schnibbens at the bottom of the plastic thingy were substantial, and La Cyn didn't feel the need to refill their dish when we had Kitten Soft Food Feeding Time in the prior evening.
But, yesterday morning, Delia was quite put out that she didn't have "fresh" food in her bowl. She sat at my bedroom door yowling at me. I went to the bowl, observed the good level of kibble in it and told her to stuff it. Delia then proceeded to the bathroom door, behind which, La Cyn had just exited the shower. Delia pawed at the door, and when La Cyn opened it, Delia yowled at her. "Your kitten is very bossy." She observed. Yes, yes, she is, and a bit whiny too.
We found it amusing that after being denied and thwarted by her Primary Mommy, her first reaction was to go to Mommy #2 and demand restitution.
We're a united front, Kittenkitten.
In other news, I have an excellent new coffee mug which keeps my coffee warm for just a little over four hours and doesn't fucking leak all over my bag. So that's a win!
In fibroid news, I haven't been able to schedule an appointment with ACH yet, as their hours match my own thus far. But rest assured, once I do, I'll have to endure a waiting list and going through diagnosis and endless paperwork to eventually, hopefully qualify for getting surgery as a sad sack charity case. And again, I might get funding to remove Parliament (not Funkadelic), but that won't cover my aftercare and maintenance for six weeks of recovery. The American health care system, you can have it.
A couple of weeks ago, La Cyn and I were watching something on the teevee which reminded us of the taco dinners our parents used to make in the 70s and 80s--McCormick spices in ground beef, hard shells, iceberg lettuce, sad tomatoes... and decided that we need that nostalgia trip.
I said, "La Cyn, some night you're gonna come home from work and find all the fixin's for White Girl Tacos." She was down with that.
Today was White Girl Tacos day. Of course, this necessitated a trip to Harvestime after work to get the proper supplies--it was sprinkling rain when I left work, by the time I exited the Harvestime, it was a full on MONSOON. I was soaked to the skin, again. Shivering, my hands were barely able to handle the keys to unlock our doors.
I haven't been this soaked to to skin since Kate and I got washed off the roof last summer.
Except that was WARMER.
La Cyn told me to think of it like it was Vietnam, to which I replied, "Yeah, but that was WARMER."
But the White Chick Tacos were exactly what we wanted, even if we did get fancy by adding avocado (and some of the hot sauce pescana left for us when she abandoned us for Northern Climes--we are still finding random stuff in the pantry, cupboards, and refrigerator, saying to each other "Did you buy this?" "Nope." In unison, "Oh, it must be pescana's.").
I've been reading a lot of comic books, and have finished "Wolf Hall" finally and have launched myself into the second book in the series, "Bring Up the Bodies." Thoroughly enjoying this read.
See, before I left for the doctor's office on Monday, I emptied the plastic thingy we keep their food in. I had a new bag of kibble for them, but wanted to wash the plastic thingy before refilling it. The schnibbens at the bottom of the plastic thingy were substantial, and La Cyn didn't feel the need to refill their dish when we had Kitten Soft Food Feeding Time in the prior evening.
But, yesterday morning, Delia was quite put out that she didn't have "fresh" food in her bowl. She sat at my bedroom door yowling at me. I went to the bowl, observed the good level of kibble in it and told her to stuff it. Delia then proceeded to the bathroom door, behind which, La Cyn had just exited the shower. Delia pawed at the door, and when La Cyn opened it, Delia yowled at her. "Your kitten is very bossy." She observed. Yes, yes, she is, and a bit whiny too.
We found it amusing that after being denied and thwarted by her Primary Mommy, her first reaction was to go to Mommy #2 and demand restitution.
We're a united front, Kittenkitten.
In other news, I have an excellent new coffee mug which keeps my coffee warm for just a little over four hours and doesn't fucking leak all over my bag. So that's a win!
In fibroid news, I haven't been able to schedule an appointment with ACH yet, as their hours match my own thus far. But rest assured, once I do, I'll have to endure a waiting list and going through diagnosis and endless paperwork to eventually, hopefully qualify for getting surgery as a sad sack charity case. And again, I might get funding to remove Parliament (not Funkadelic), but that won't cover my aftercare and maintenance for six weeks of recovery. The American health care system, you can have it.
A couple of weeks ago, La Cyn and I were watching something on the teevee which reminded us of the taco dinners our parents used to make in the 70s and 80s--McCormick spices in ground beef, hard shells, iceberg lettuce, sad tomatoes... and decided that we need that nostalgia trip.
I said, "La Cyn, some night you're gonna come home from work and find all the fixin's for White Girl Tacos." She was down with that.
Today was White Girl Tacos day. Of course, this necessitated a trip to Harvestime after work to get the proper supplies--it was sprinkling rain when I left work, by the time I exited the Harvestime, it was a full on MONSOON. I was soaked to the skin, again. Shivering, my hands were barely able to handle the keys to unlock our doors.
I haven't been this soaked to to skin since Kate and I got washed off the roof last summer.
Except that was WARMER.
La Cyn told me to think of it like it was Vietnam, to which I replied, "Yeah, but that was WARMER."
But the White Chick Tacos were exactly what we wanted, even if we did get fancy by adding avocado (and some of the hot sauce pescana left for us when she abandoned us for Northern Climes--we are still finding random stuff in the pantry, cupboards, and refrigerator, saying to each other "Did you buy this?" "Nope." In unison, "Oh, it must be pescana's.").
I've been reading a lot of comic books, and have finished "Wolf Hall" finally and have launched myself into the second book in the series, "Bring Up the Bodies." Thoroughly enjoying this read.