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You know, because we needed a new shower curtain and all. Apparently I was in some sort of whimsical mood when picking it out? All I know is that it’s too “loud”, in the words of my grandma (RIP), and I can’t look at it first thing in the morning.
Today, please post your best photo of the year. It doesn’t have to be the best technically, it doesn’t have to be the best visually, but it should be a photo that you consider the best. Does it have special meaning? Is it of a significant event or moment? Share it with us!
Asking me to pick a favorite photo is like asking me to pick my favorite player on the Minnesota Lynx. I love them all for different reasons and you can’t make me choose. Ever. But this picture is the one I’m most proud of, I believe.
The Kid and WNBA Rookie of the Year/WNBA Champion Maya Moore at center court before one of the many games we went to this season. It’s possible I was more excited than he was.
It’s usually night like tonight, too.
Drive home from work where The Boy and I yammer away about homework, cleaning his room, a kid at school that’s kind of a jerk, and Minneapolis city curfews. The Boy does his math homework while we run to the store for paper towels, a prescription, and a winter scarf Riley can wear to his first visit to Santa on Saturday.
The three of us stand around in the kitchen. Well, The General cooks, I open things and taste test new recipes. The Boy, in his attempt at talking his way out of cleanup duty, tried to say he helped with dinner prep by “providing conversation”.
Dinner at the table, discussions about hot sauce and what size shoe The Boy’s dad wears. Then it’s off to bathe for The Kid and some program watching for the adults.
Now I’m in bed with little Thelma. The Kid has a Panic at the Disco CD on repeat while he sleeps. And The General and Riley are closing up shop downstairs before coming up to bed.
Nights like this have become my life and I don’t have a complaint in the world about it.
Pretty much every night this week, The General and I started out watching TV in the evening. This resulted in me falling asleep in what was usually a very special looking position on the chaise lounge. It’s not conducive for doing much around the house, but I’m definitely getting used to sleeping at a angle that nobody can get comfortable in.
So, I don’t have anything to say or much time to say it before midnight roles around. I did find this awesome picture I want to share. It’s a picture of downtown Minneapolis taken from pretty darn close to my work parking lot and I love it very much.
(via bigboxcar)
Late Friday night, The General and I were discussing our Punkin Patch plans for Saturday morning. We’d got the OK from The Kid that it’d still be fun, even at the age of 14, so we were trying to shake out something fun. My requirements (a corn pit and corn dogs) were not placed very high on the scale of requirements (and for good reason, I’m sure), and we tried to fit in The Kid’s wishlist (corn maze) and The General’s (a petting zoo). I would have also picked pony rides, but apparently that’s just for kids. We decided on Apple Jack Orchards. Quick review: Two thumbs up. A++++. Would do business with again. (I rank everything in my life just like I do Ebay feedback.)
We navigated the corn maze somewhat successfully:
And then we poked around until we found 89 pounds of pumpkins that we needed. Mind you, only three of them have been carved at this point.
It’s not obvious The Kid was tired of pictures at this point, is it? He better get used to it, because this little trip just got turned into a family tradition. I don’t care if he is over six feet tall next year. He’s still getting in that damn wagon for a picture. (I rule at parenting, no?)
Periodically, I do a little search to find out what’s going on with my Flickr photos, etc. This morning, I found the following:
Lindsay Whalen’s Wikipedia page? Totally my picture. A horrible one, but it’s mine.
The picture of Target Center on the Lynx Wikipedia page? Also mine. Taken from my phone in 2010.
Sea Breeze (cocktail). That’s me. It’s been there for a long time, but it’s one of my favorites.
I’m mainly excited about the Lynx photos (naturally), but who doesn’t love a good picture of a vodka-based drink on a cruise ship first thing in the morning?
Back a long, long time ago in November 2010, we got a call from the Director of Pet Project Rescue. She was all, “I know you don’t really want to foster cats or kittens, but I had to rescue this little 8 week old kitten from animal control. He has a cold and they were going to euthanize him.” Those may have not been the exact words, but close. And, yes, they do euthanize even 8 week old kittens at animal control, especially when they have colds (otherwise known as CAT HERPES) and they can’t be around other cats. So, do you see why we said, “Sure, just bring the damn cat over already.”
He came over, looking like this:
He’s pitiful looking, no? He weighed a pound or two, had to have his face wiped off multiple times a day just so he could open up his tiny little eyes, and we had to force feed him lysine to help combat his herp (those are The General’s word, not mine!) a few times throughout the day. But man, he had some attitude and I should have realized it at that point, but when something curls up right in the crook of your neck and purrs you both sleep, you forget about that little demon part of him, right? I’m assuming that’s what it’s like with human babies, too.
He’s never scratched or bitten any of us, even on accident. He still has all of his claws (DECLAWING CUTS OFF THEIR KNUCKLES, FRIENDS), but only uses them when we give him a cardboard box to destroy. We’ve been trying to train the new foster puppy basic commands from time to time and Marshall is getting them quicker than the dog. Yes, our cat sits and lays down and he’ll do anything else you want him to do, all for a dog treat.
And now he’s this cat. A cat that thinks he’s a dog. He couldn’t catch a fly to save his life, despite really, really wanting to. He likes to go on walks outside in the backyard while I hold him. We got him a fishing pole at the dollar store and he loves it so much that you have to hide it from him or he drags it all the way around the house.
I never thought I’d like cats, but Marshall, our little butt tabby (that’s how animal control denoted that he was a butterscotch tabby) changed my mind pretty darn quick.
Please note the dangling handlebars.
So much for being green and healthy and all that stuff! I’ll try again when it’s cooler… and I bring an allenwrench with me.
But right now, this 12 pound weasel named Leo is his BFF. How cute are they? Do they look like brothers?
