I have just about wrapped up Birthday Sewing, good news since tomorrow is the big day, right? Tonight might be a late one, which is okay because I will have amazing company. My sister is visiting from D.C. for Ogie-Bogue’s big day! We are boot-skootin’ thrilled. I must figure out how to light my projects, today is a very cloudy day and natural light is hard to come by. Still hammering out this whole delicious photo business.
This guy, the pasha-prince, is still battling fleas. As is our home. It isn’t out of control, but the vacuuming everyday and combing the cat out and keeping him outside is just enough extra heaped on the pile that it is beginning to feel like a burden. He wants in the house so badly. He meows at the front window, then the back door, then the front window. Sad pasha-prince. Isn’t he beautiful? We let him in for a bit last night, (this may not be suitable for the squeamish) and he sprawled on the couch next to me, rolled onto his back, and I preened the fleas from his belly like a monkey. He loved it, and I receive incalculable satisfaction from drowning the fleas in a cup of soapy water. Next week we are moving into the chemical phase of eradication. Which blows, given that Oren lives on the floor. Him and I will be living elsewhere until I feel like it’s safe (read: less neuro-toxic) to come home.
It’s been almost a month since this was a regular scene in our home. They miss each other. Every time George meows about coming inside, dingo perks up and signs for “cat”, with a look on his face that can only be described as excited and forlorn.
Sigh. You would miss him too. I almost wish we’d never allowed him to become a part-time outdoor cat. One day, we caved, exhausted from having to fight him at the door every time we left or came home. He wanted that fresh air. And now he has fleas, and a girlfriend, and territory. And I just want him to be my loungey drowsy house animal again. Perhaps this winter. All of this sap, over a cat, leads me to believe I should provide you with full disclosure: there may be a very sappy post about my son’s first year of life in the near future. I can’t even handle that the cat has moved onto bigger things (like the front porch), and here my son is going to turn one. Sap. Sap. Sap.
I am really looking forward to more of this.