I'm well fed . . .
Jul. 20th, 2003 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bronwynrhAnd I had some play time, too.
In fact, I did a few unexpected things, today. I slept in (wow, did I need that!) and then a couple of friends from Chicago stopped by and we went out for lunch. I was reminded again, although I've only seen them three times now, that I really like Shredder and Mrs. Shredder (screen name, of course) and I am oh-so-glad to have met them.
Mrs. Shredder was so kind, she's put together a Suze Orman put-your-life together in a binder thing for me, complete with the CD-ROMs. Sure, it violates all sorts of copyrights, but hey! I can now organize all my deeds, insurance, credit reports and all the other various and sundry paperwork and financial shtuff that somehow defines and shapes my very life - much as I hate it. Sure beats having it all scattered in underwear and silverware drawers!
Nice people!
After lunch, I went over to Petsmart to check on a pair of kittens I was thinking of adopting, to see if the vet had been to look them over. I'd met them on Thursday but they were sneezing and coughing. I was told the vet hadn't picked them up yet. :-/ Disappointed (for the kittens) I stopped off at Old Navy and bought some pants, a dress and a top, then headed off to the Monroe Cty Animal Shelter.
I have now submitted an application to adopt two kittens. They are littermates, 6 weeks old and I am pretty sure they are part Ragdoll. No joke. The male is sable-colored, really beautiful, with pale green eyes. The female is all white, with gray-brown tipped ears, blue eyes. She's pretty skinny, so I hope I can fatten her up pretty quickly. I also hope Christie gets over herself and behaves when I bring them home. She can be quite the bitch, but I know she can get over it, especially if she's on her own turf.
I hope. I don't want to have to take the kittens back.
Let's all send good behavior vibes to Christie, ok?
Hmmmm. . . . I think the shelter will give me a starter kit for the kittens. I'll need baby shampoo to bathe them, lots of kitten food, I have bowls already, I need to bring up the carrier from the basement (Christie won't get into it, but the kittens will!) I think I'll have the kittens sleep in it at night - should I put them in it for part of the day when I'm gone, too? Or just keep them in my bathroom with supplies while I'm gone? For those who don't know, my bathroom is the only room other than my basement that can be closed off with a door.
Advice?
A little surprised at myself, I headed home for a bit to clean up and change, then walked over to the M. family home for a bean burrito dinner with M., S., and little N., who's my age, minus 24 years and 20 hours. After dinner, M. and S. left for their date to celebrate their anniversary, and N. and I started our date. We walked hand in hand and skipped, after a fashion, to the park, and I watched as she played and sang Itsy Bitsy Spider. I pushed her in the swing and watched in amusement and horror as another child ignored the cries of myself and his mother (Alex! Alex! Stop! We cried) as he ran headlong into N.'s backswing. I was standing in front of her, you see, and could catch neither N. nor Alex.
*THUMP*
2 year olds are, indeed, made of rubber. I caught N. on the forward swing so she didn't hit him again when he got up, which he promptly did. He pouted for a sec and shook himself off, then grabbed yet another handful of dirt to shove in his mouth as his mother picked him up, assuring me that he was fine, he does this every time, I wish he would hurry up and learn not to do that.
*whew*
A few more minutes at the park, then it was time to head home. No skipping this time, N. wanted to be carried. A little snuggle-muffin, she was. Home for a tiny ice cream sandwich, a bath, jammies, two books and bed time. Oh yes, and time for more proofs of the theory that 2 year olds are made of rubber. N. can climb to wild heights and swing from high bars with ease and grace and the most beautiful smile, but put her on flat ground when she's tired and she will trip and fall an average of every other time you turn around. Freaky! She's a great little kid, though. She'll cry for about 30 seconds, but all you have to do is ask if she's ok, and she'll calm right down, "yes". Then she'll hop off your lap (no blood, no broken bones, yer fine) and walk away.
No crybaby, her. Chalk that up to fantastic parenting.
So, yeah. Diaper changing and falls and crying, even . . . I had fun. Yes, someday, I'd like a little one of my own. Indeedy.
In fact, I did a few unexpected things, today. I slept in (wow, did I need that!) and then a couple of friends from Chicago stopped by and we went out for lunch. I was reminded again, although I've only seen them three times now, that I really like Shredder and Mrs. Shredder (screen name, of course) and I am oh-so-glad to have met them.
Mrs. Shredder was so kind, she's put together a Suze Orman put-your-life together in a binder thing for me, complete with the CD-ROMs. Sure, it violates all sorts of copyrights, but hey! I can now organize all my deeds, insurance, credit reports and all the other various and sundry paperwork and financial shtuff that somehow defines and shapes my very life - much as I hate it. Sure beats having it all scattered in underwear and silverware drawers!
Nice people!
After lunch, I went over to Petsmart to check on a pair of kittens I was thinking of adopting, to see if the vet had been to look them over. I'd met them on Thursday but they were sneezing and coughing. I was told the vet hadn't picked them up yet. :-/ Disappointed (for the kittens) I stopped off at Old Navy and bought some pants, a dress and a top, then headed off to the Monroe Cty Animal Shelter.
I have now submitted an application to adopt two kittens. They are littermates, 6 weeks old and I am pretty sure they are part Ragdoll. No joke. The male is sable-colored, really beautiful, with pale green eyes. The female is all white, with gray-brown tipped ears, blue eyes. She's pretty skinny, so I hope I can fatten her up pretty quickly. I also hope Christie gets over herself and behaves when I bring them home. She can be quite the bitch, but I know she can get over it, especially if she's on her own turf.
I hope. I don't want to have to take the kittens back.
Let's all send good behavior vibes to Christie, ok?
Hmmmm. . . . I think the shelter will give me a starter kit for the kittens. I'll need baby shampoo to bathe them, lots of kitten food, I have bowls already, I need to bring up the carrier from the basement (Christie won't get into it, but the kittens will!) I think I'll have the kittens sleep in it at night - should I put them in it for part of the day when I'm gone, too? Or just keep them in my bathroom with supplies while I'm gone? For those who don't know, my bathroom is the only room other than my basement that can be closed off with a door.
Advice?
A little surprised at myself, I headed home for a bit to clean up and change, then walked over to the M. family home for a bean burrito dinner with M., S., and little N., who's my age, minus 24 years and 20 hours. After dinner, M. and S. left for their date to celebrate their anniversary, and N. and I started our date. We walked hand in hand and skipped, after a fashion, to the park, and I watched as she played and sang Itsy Bitsy Spider. I pushed her in the swing and watched in amusement and horror as another child ignored the cries of myself and his mother (Alex! Alex! Stop! We cried) as he ran headlong into N.'s backswing. I was standing in front of her, you see, and could catch neither N. nor Alex.
*THUMP*
2 year olds are, indeed, made of rubber. I caught N. on the forward swing so she didn't hit him again when he got up, which he promptly did. He pouted for a sec and shook himself off, then grabbed yet another handful of dirt to shove in his mouth as his mother picked him up, assuring me that he was fine, he does this every time, I wish he would hurry up and learn not to do that.
*whew*
A few more minutes at the park, then it was time to head home. No skipping this time, N. wanted to be carried. A little snuggle-muffin, she was. Home for a tiny ice cream sandwich, a bath, jammies, two books and bed time. Oh yes, and time for more proofs of the theory that 2 year olds are made of rubber. N. can climb to wild heights and swing from high bars with ease and grace and the most beautiful smile, but put her on flat ground when she's tired and she will trip and fall an average of every other time you turn around. Freaky! She's a great little kid, though. She'll cry for about 30 seconds, but all you have to do is ask if she's ok, and she'll calm right down, "yes". Then she'll hop off your lap (no blood, no broken bones, yer fine) and walk away.
No crybaby, her. Chalk that up to fantastic parenting.
So, yeah. Diaper changing and falls and crying, even . . . I had fun. Yes, someday, I'd like a little one of my own. Indeedy.
