From Stools to Flowers to Bunions

It seems the pooping fun has not quite yet ended.  We've been stalking The Bears bowel movements for a sample.  With three cats, this is not very easy.  Also, The Boy is a bit squeamish.  The Bear sometimes has bloody stools, and it never seems to both him, but you know, it bothers us.  The vet recommended feeding The Bear more fiber, and to try pureed pumpkin.  The Boy thought that was one funny joke.  However, in the first year of having The Bear, I watched him steal my steamed yellow squash and rub his head all over it before he devoured it in to little pulpy bits.  Pumpkin is no different it seems.  The other cats will approach to see what all the fuss is about, and then abruptly turn and say, "so gross, I just puked in my mouth a bit."  I fear The Bear is going to eat so much pumpkin that he'll end up shitting all over my clothes that I leave on the bureau in which he likes to snuggle.  And yes, his stool sample, when I finally got it, was a lurid orange.  Yay pumpkin!

This morning I woke up late, feeling like a stoned slug with crusty eyelashes and a damp wedgie.  I stumble in the livingroom and The Boy asks me how I feel, and right after I grunt, "like ass," he said, "Did you see the Wedding Present canceled their show?"  Aw, man.  That fucking sucks.  Now I won't get to take that day off on Tuesday that I was so looking forward to.  After letting out a bit of a howling, "Fuck!"  I got a big "April Fool's" in my face, and a lot of pointing and laughing.  Fucking bastard.

Just for that, I will tell a little funny at his expense (that's right Boy, now give me $5!).  A couple of weeks ago, The Boy washed the duvet cover.  He likes to use a lot of fabric softener.  A few hours later, The Boy was making out a bit with Mattress, and giving him some good sniffs.  This is something we both like to do--nuzzle our cats and take a good inhale of their awesome smells.  The Orange Lover smelled like maple syrup, and no other cat has ever smelled as good as him.  The Boy told me to smell Mattress, and in wonderment he said,  "Would you smell him?  He really smells good today--like laundry detergent!"  Oh how he was amazed and happy with his clean-smelling cat.  Until I said, "He was sleeping on the freshly laundered duvet, you dork."  Ha!


Here's the cat who smells like Bounce.

Can't you just smell his awesome goodness?  Okay, he doesn't really smell that great nor that bad.  He just smells like himself.  His drool fucking stinks, though.  Beyond control stinks.  We won't get in to that.

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My cactus is finally in bloom.  It looks lovelier with each passing year.

A little less predictable is the blooming of the wild irises in the backyard, but with all the rain we've had this winter, they are making a nice showing.

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Yesterday I worked eleven completely unproductive hours in a pair of my new shoes.  It started out marveously.  After about five hours, things weren't so great, but I still looked really good (though, Emma's mom [formerly known as Slagbag] advised that my dress and left leg clashed), but dear Lord, my fucking feet were killing me.  Must remember to break in new shoes in small bits, and not for a whole day of walking.  I have a slight bunion on my right foot, and by last night, it was more than slight--all swollen and blistery.  This morning it was still so bad, that I couldn't even wear my purple suede sneakers, which usually feels just right.  At least my Converse are worn out enough to accommodate my ugly swollen foot.  Today was much shorter and more pleasant, I just didn't look as pretty getting through it.