Category Archives: creativity
Ever go to wikihow.com? I was searching for ideas on
how to hide tattoos fun children’s activities when I stumbled on this: How to Sew a Cloak for Your Cat.
Or, as I like to think of it, A Modern Suicide Modality.
I had a roommate who dressed her cats up for every holiday. Yes, little Joey and Chandler clearly
wanted to die loved it.
But even she bought the outfits. She wasn’t so foolish as to tailor clothes to those beasts.
There must be a special subcategory of
cuckoo eccentric cat lovers–those who make clothes for their cats?.
I know, you cat people seem practically pleased when you’re petting your fuzzy friend, who is purring away, appearing happy, and suddenly for no reason you get bit! Oh, ha, he just does that sometimes…
(It’s intriguing the
bleeding suffering you will head into endure when you love something, isn’t it?)
Can you imagine what would happen in the dog world equivalent? Pet-pet-pet-CHOMP! …Uh, Rover, how about a trip to “the farm”??
Anyway, for those masochist cat owners, this cloak-making project is right up your alley.
You get to do things like measure your cat from the back down the legs, from the neck to tail, and all around the neck. And I’m sure that will go well.
After you’ve applied band-aids, you cut and sew the cloak, and then yes, put elastic around the neck just to keep
Muffy from ripping it into shreds in 3 seconds it looking smart.
If you look at the instructions page, the finished product is shown on…what’s that? Yes! A person’s arm.
Which, turns out, is perfect for covering up all those bloody scratch and bite marks.
Am I missing anything?
In sum, dogs, clearly superior, yes?
Or, do we just endure a
less bloody different suffering in the canine crowd?
Nah, clearly superior.
Last weekend, I dragged the Let the dog in! household to a civil war re-enactment, but since
the civil war was more sad than funny I know nothing about the civil war, how’s about we talk s’more about summer with the kids out of school, ‘k??
It starts off with a gorgeous image, a vision of calm, peaceful order and an appreciation of community and the natural beauty in all life.
You imagine you’ll have lovely, relaxing chats with your friends and neighbors.
As the natives
declare they’re BORED get restless, you quickly realize you have a big, white target “X” on your back.
You scramble to entertain
the enemy your kids with music and fun, perhaps an outdoor concert.
But even the littlest soldiers revolt.
(with the very littlest fighters yelling, “BANG,” instead of firing an actual gun)
Before the actual altercations began, you fashioned yourself the guy with the biggest, loudest gun on the field, but, alas, you need
to fix a martini a reality check.
In the end, your fate turns out more like the band.
And your living room, strewn with
popsicle sticks dead bodies that no one is picking up…
If you’re lucky, some
summer camp instructor angelic vision will come to pray for your soul.
What month is this? September, right? Whaaa?
Do you have war on your hands or a peace treaty?
And now…the Kid has broken her arm. She gets points for being small and cute with a broken appendage, but I think the Hubs is still the main prize winner
and security x-ray setter-offer forfreakinever. Screws and plates will get you that honor.
I should just accept that our family album will be in black and white.
But enough about them
and their lesser calcium deposits. How does all this impact you, Wendy, you ask? Are you doing okay? How terrible is all this broken bone business for you? Poor Wendy!
Well, frankly, I could have used more of that meditative time in the ER at midnight. I mean, how often does a mom get to sit for hours in the same spot and navel gaze? It’s not like the Kid plays softball.
Plus, if they weren’t perfected already, I have thoroughly honed my ice-pack-refilling skills. Vegas, anyone?
Unfortunately for me, because of this break the Kid has now managed to get herself excused from Friday jumprope class
the big, whiny baby, so there goes my weekly happy hour late afternoon “me” time. Thanks.
Let’s pray for a fast recovery
or I’ll be needing a recovery program.
Warning: numerous eggs were harmed in the making of this post.
You all know how the Hubs is into all his power tools, right? No task too big or too small to bring some apparatus to plug into a socket.
Easter is apparently no different.
This year, besides his usual take-your-time, draw-it-out-ahead-of-time approach, the Hubs decided to experiment with a hot glue gun.
I’m just sayin’, they don’t call it a hot glue gun for nothin’.
So, the Hubs’ plan was to peel off the glue once the color is on the egg to reveal his special pattern in white underneath, but guess what?
Glue sticks to stuff!
As you might imagine, many eggs were eaten as a result of the peeling-off process.