The One With The Missing Needle

I'm not even sure how to intro this story, so I'm just going to jump right in...

A few weeks ago, I was hand quilting in my bedroom. I'd been working on a queen-size quilt (just the one that I mentioned on my last post). Throughout the project, I'd do a little here and there--even if it was just one length of thread, it was inching me closer to finishing.

Anyway, I have a little pincushion that I made *specifically* because I worry about my cats eating thread. It's just a small mason jar with a cushion on top. Whenever I snip the tails of my thread, I immediately put them in the jar and put the lid on. Not taking any chances.

I also have a small sewing kit I made just for hand quilting or sewing, making it easy to move my stuff around the house with me wherever I feel like working on it. In the kit is a little needle book that holds the different types of needles I use. I try to keep a stash of five of each type in there so that if they bent or whatever, I can easily grab a new one.

I go through quilting needles probably faster than I should. On that day, I had to switch out my bent needle and I grabbed another from the book. I noticed I was down to the last needle, so I just made a mental note to add a few more later. I quilted with one length of thread and then I rethreaded the needle to start another. After I tied the knot in the end, I heard something chaotic in the living room--I don't remember what it was--and it made me jump up to go see what happened.

I stuck the threaded needle into the pin cushion (from what I remembered) and set the jar in my sewing kit so that it wouldn't be a totally visible beckoning to the cats for the moment. I set the sewing kit down off to the side behind a chair, and I went to check out what was going on in the living room. Of course, I got distracted and ended up forgetting about my quilting until the following morning.

When I sat down to quilt in the morning, I went to grab a needle from my book and saw there was only one in there. And there wasn't a needle in the pin cushion.

I tried to remember all the details of what happened. Was I missing a needle? I knew that I made a note that I was down to the last quilting needle. When I looked in the book, there was one needle left. So I was questioning myself whether I used that needle and put it back in the book, or had there been one quilting needle left in the book *after I took a new one out*?

My gut was telling me that there had been two needles in the book, and I'd taken one out, leaving the final needle in the book. Whenever I'm done with a needle, I put it in the jar also, to discard later--it wouldn't be a fun thing to find with my feet later on--but I had a few old needles in the jar so I wasn't sure. Also, I couldn't remember if I had already used that length of thread from the day before... had I used it and then put everything away? There was no sign of the thread anywhere.

At that point, I was pretty sure I had a missing needle and length of thread. But I couldn't be absolutely sure and it was nagging at me! So I grabbed a flashlight and a magnet and started crawling around on my hands and knees looking for a needle. I did not find one. BUT. I found a short length of thread with a knot tied in one end. The other end looked broken, not cut.

Then I knew. I was definitely missing a needle and some length of thread. With the thread having a knot in one end, I knew I hadn't used it yet--the other end had to be threaded into the needle. And I never tie a knot without the needle being threaded already. But there was no sign of more thread and definitely no needle.

A needle isn't exactly something that you want to chance a cat passing naturally, so I called the vet. I asked if I could bring in both Chick and Duck for x-rays. My money was on Chick--remember when he swallowed that entire drawstring and then regurgitated it like two days later? Duck is obviously not innocent, after his emergency surgery in 2021 from swallowing four feet of yarn, but my suspicion was Chick. (Estelle never would have done it, so that didn't even cross my mind. Same with Joey.)

I brought them to the vet right away and asked them to check Chick first. Chick thought he was being sneaky by hiding under the chair, hahaha.

When the vet came back, she showed me the x-ray and said that it was definitely Chick that ate the needle. You could see the needle clearly on the x-ray and it was still in his stomach (which is a good thing because as it travels through the intestines, the surgery can get a lot more complicated).

They said they could operate on him that afternoon, just a couple of hours later. And then we got to pick him up that evening because he didn't have any complications (like Duck did, with his fever). He came home in a body suit to keep from licking his incision. He was SO out of it from the anesthesia that it was kind of scary to watch him. He was very restless but would only walk backwards--no joke. He would walk backwards until he bumped into something, then turn and continue on. Thankfully, it only lasted a few hours. He was stoned AF though from his meds.

His aftercare was not at all fun. He came home with five medications--FIVE--and if you have ever given a cat medication, you know that it's an experience. Phoebe left me a sobbing mess sometimes, hahaha. There was a liquid, three regular pills, and then a big pill that had to be crushed, mixed with water, and given orally with a syringe. (Can you think of anything more bitter tasting?)

The meds had to be given twice a day. Chick also could not be jumping or playing or anything like that. That's very hard to do when you have other cats at home and the "cat shelves" in my bedroom (Chick's favorite place to sleep). Also, Chick could only have soft food. Wet food is a big treat to the pets and they got hooked when Duck was recovering. We got into the routine of giving all the pets wet food first thing in the morning, and dry food throughout the day, which is what we have been doing ever since.

Because Chick needed only wet food, I had to feed him several times a day (especially at first, because he didn't want to eat--so I'd open a can only for him to shun it). Of course, I can't give one cat special food because the other cats (and Joey) want it, too. So, I was feeding all the pets smaller portions of food several times a day to keep everybody happy and to help Chick recover.

I'm very lucky that I was able to be home to take care of all of it. I have no idea how we would have managed Chick's recovery otherwise. He's now back to normal and I've learned another lesson the hard way. This was another very expensive and stressful lesson to learn! The part that kills me is that I KNEW BETTER. At the very least, I should have thrown something on top of my sewing stuff to cover it.

Thankfully, everything turned out okay. I am so glad that I (I guess unknowingly) pay attention to the number of needles I have. I don't deliberately count them each time I use them; I only noticed it because I'd made a mental note to add more to the book. But it was the piece of thread with a knot that thoroughly convinced me the needle was missing, whether it was ingested or just lost. Trust your intuition!

These cats keep me on my toes, that's for sure ;)

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The One With The Ashes

I've been wanting to write about this for a while but since I haven't been writing at all lately, I kind of forgot about it. I was telling a friend about it today, so I'm going to write this before I forget again.

If you missed the post, Phoebe (our 18-year old cat) passed away in November. (The post is here.) We made the decision to euthanize her when we took her to the vet (she looked terrible and seemed to be in pain... the vet agreed it was time).

I know I just wrote Phoebe's backstory in the post about her, but a relevant tidbit here is how Phoebe came to be our cat. A mom in the MOMS Club I was in while my kids were little was looking for a home for a stray cat that her sister had taken in. We only had Chandler at the time, so we decided we wanted her.

Rose made this little stuffed Phoebe for me for Christmas! The little box contains Phoebe's ashes.

Side note: How CUTE is that teeny tiny vase? It's literally a vase for cat whiskers. BAHAHA, I got it for Jerry for Christmas. [If you know, you know.]

She had definitely had a rough start to life--half of her tail was missing (the tip of what was left felt bent, and I imagine that maybe it was slammed in a door) and she had what felt like a BB (like for a BB gun) under her skin in her chest area. We never knew if it was actually a BB, but that's exactly what it felt like, so we assumed she'd been shot at some point. Poor cat!

Anyway, we talked about Phoebe's BB here and there throughout the years (she was about a year old when we got her). The curiosity drove me crazy sometimes--it felt so close to the surface of her skin, and I just wanted to pluck it out and know!

As morbid as it sounds, I'd always planned to ask the vet if they could remove it after she died. I wanted it for some odd reason. However, after the emotional euthanasia visit, the last thing I was thinking about was asking for the BB. When I realized it the next day, I figured it was too late (and definitely a creepy thing to ask on the phone) so I forgot about it.

Until a few weeks later, when I was looking for a spot to put her ashes. The thought of the BB popped into my head again, and I got the idea to look for it in her ashes. I *know* this is weird! I really do. But my curiosity was killing me. I opened up the urn and used a magnet to sift through the ashes.

To be honest, I didn't actually even believe that they were Phoebe's ashes. How would anyone know if they are getting their pet's ashes? I guess I just pictured the crematorium doing a big cremation and divvying up the ashes to each owner, because nobody would know and it would be cheaper. So I didn't expect to find anything, but I just HAD to look.

And then...

I FOUND IT. It took all of about 10 seconds for the magnet to find it.

It was seriously in her ashes! I can't even describe how I felt when I found it, but it was good. I am still so stunned that it was in there. And I learned that it was, in fact, a BB. 

I wanted to share this not only because it's an interesting story, but because maybe if you have doubts about whether your pet's ashes are really *their* ashes, have faith that they probably are. Obviously crematoriums do their own thing, but maybe this will be a little reassuring. I have solid proof that I do, in fact, have Phoebe's ashes!

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The One Where Phoebe Crossed the Rainbow Bridge

I hate that this is the first post I've written in a while, because it's a sad one for me. The last couple of months have just plain sucked, and I have been avoiding writing until I have something positive to say. But I can't skip over this one.

Noah called me on Saturday morning and said that he was really worried about Phoebe. She was hiding in his closet, not wanting to be social, very lethargic... not at all like her. She also looked very skinny (she was already a skinny cat and couldn't afford to lose any weight). Her fur was looking clumpy. All of these things had happened a few years ago as well, and I'd been sure she was at death's door. I even made the appointment to have her euthanized and we all said our goodbyes to her.

Saying goodbye to her a few years ago

Then, the morning of the appointment, she suddenly started eating again and she perked up a lot. So, we waited. And she got better! Back to normal Phoebe. She's done that to us a couple of times over the last few years, so when Noah called me, I wasn't *too* worried. If it hadn't been Saturday, I probably would've waited a day or two to take her to the vet. But if something was wrong, I really didn't want it to happen while the vet was closed on Sunday.

Noah had an appointment, but I asked his girlfriend, Rose, if she wanted to go with me. She ADORES Phoebe. She has spoiled her rotten over the last year and Phoebe was super attached to Rose. I thought that if this was the end of the road for Phoebe, she'd want Rose there too.

When they weighed Phoebe at the vet, I was stunned. She was only 3.5 pounds (down from 5.5 a couple of months ago). She looked like a skeleton with fur. Normally, she would have meowed the whole way to the vet and then fought her way to stay in her carrier instead of getting examined, but she seemed like she was just so tired and didn't care what was happening.

The vet said her kidney disease had progressed to the point that there was really nothing we could do. They could give her fluids, which would probably help for a couple of days, but then we'd be back in the same spot. And I could tell Phoebe was in pain--it was even hard for her to walk. I asked the vet what she would do if it was her cat, and she gently said that euthanizing her would probably be the most loving thing we could do for her at that point.

She left Rose and I to talk it over and we were devastated. We ultimately agreed that it was what was best for Phoebe. The last thing I wanted was to be with her when the vet gave her the meds because I knew it would crush me, but again--I wanted to do what was best for Phoebe and I wanted her to feel loved until the very end.

In 2009, one of the women in a MOMS Club that I belonged to said her sister had a stray cat that needed a home. We had just one cat at the time--Chandler--and we decided to take her. She was about a year old and had just gotten spayed (she was pregnant at the time, which breaks my heart). We realized she must have had a rough life--she was missing half of her tail and she had a bb embedded under her skin. The way her tail was bent at the end felt like maybe it had been slammed in a door.

This was the day we brought her home

She was extremely skittish around people (which was understandable) but over time, she warmed up to us. She and Chandler were buddies, too. 

She desperately wanted to be an outdoor cat (coming and going as she pleased) and we let her do that for the first few years. One time, though, she was gone for a long time. I was sure she'd been eaten by a coyote or something in the woods across the street. She obviously made it home alive, but that was probably the closest to death she'd ever experienced. I wrote all about it in this post: "And Then There Were Three". After that, she was strictly an indoor cat, unless we brought her outside on her leash. She was notorious for sneaking out, though!

My absolute favorite thing about Phoebe was this sort of "sixth sense" that she had. I have had a lot of cats in my lifetime, but none of them were as intuitive to others' emotions like Phoebe. She was SO empathetic. Any time she sensed that I was upset about something, she became very insistent about being as close to my face as possible. It was like she could stare right into my soul. She wanted to curl up on my chest and rub her face on mine. It didn't matter where she was in the house or what she was doing; if she heard me crying, she would run to me. I felt a special bond with her because of that.

After my skin removal surgery (and my jaw surgeries), she was glued to my chest

And that's why I wanted to be with her when she went to sleep for the final time. I let Rose hold her on her lap and I just kept stroking her head and telling her it was okay. I wanted to comfort her like she always comforted me. Then the vet pushed the meds into her catheter and I could see her instantly relax. She rested her head in my hand. The vet listened for her heartbeat and told us she was "at peace".

I know that it was best for her, but it was still so hard to do. Phoebe was the cat that just kept coming back. Honestly, when I brought her to the vet that day, I was sure she'd get some fluids and turn right back into the old Phoebe, having given us all a scare again.

I am so glad that we made the decision to let her live with Noah and Rose over the last year. She was SO happy there as an only pet. She didn't have Chick and Duck pestering her all the time and she'd gotten her appetite back. She even gained a little weight. Whenever I visited her, she seemed so content, which made me happy. And I loved to see how spoiled she was.

It's so hard to believe that she was 18 years old. I've never had a pet live that long; Chandler was 14 when he died. Estelle is now 17 and Joey is 11. Where does the time go?

I really will try to write soon, even if I don't have anything positive to say right now. xo

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The One Where Phoebe Moved Out

It's been a while since I've updated anything about Phoebe. Can you believe it's been about two years since she was very sick and diagnosed with kidney disease? She'd gotten down under five pounds, and while she'd always been skinny, she looked like death. I said my goodbyes to her, convinced that she wouldn't be coming home from the vet with me.

Phoebe is now 16 years old and she is probably on her ninth of nine lives. Even when we adopted her, she'd already been shot by a bb gun and some sort of trauma had resulted in the loss of half of her tail. There was the time she was locked in my neighbor's shed for four days straight without food or water. And a time where she somehow got a puncture wound on her back, which got infected--resulting in surgery. She's been through a lot!

When Noah decided to move into an apartment, he said he wished he could take Phoebe and Estelle with him. Phoebe has always been "his" cat; he has a strong bond with her.

Noah and Phoebe in 2009, on the day we brought Phoebe home

I was about to dismiss the idea, but then I started to think about it. Phoebe has made it clear that she would prefer to be an only pet. She gets along with Joey, but she hates the other cats. Chick and Duck torment her (they are only trying to play with her, but she doesn't want anything to do with them).

The only cat she's ever gotten along with is Chandler. But then again, *everybody* loved Chandler.

With Phoebe being old, slow, and a third the size of the kittens, I was constantly having to separate the cats to accommodate Phoebe. I feel super protective of her, even though she's a spitfire and has proven she can take care of herself.

It was always extremely difficult to get her to eat. For the last couple of years, I've been doing everything I can to get her to gain some weight--trying numerous different types of food--but she's not food-motivated in the slightest. Feeding the cats was super stressful. Along with their dry food, I started giving them wet food once a day (they go crazy for it) to hopefully entice Phoebe. Each time, I had to watch the cats like a hawk so they didn't go steal Phoebe's food. (If I didn't keep them away, they'd go sit right in front of her to intimidate her to leave her plate.)

As I thought about what Noah said, I realized that Phoebe would probably be thrilled to live as a solo pet with Noah. She has a strong bond with him. And he could feed her wet food as frequently as she'd eat, allowing her to take her time (considering there weren't more cats around stalking her). Noah said there was a pet fee of $350 at the apartment, which he couldn't afford. I told him that we could do a short trial period and if she seemed to do well, then Jerry and I would pay the fee as well as for her care (food, litter, vet). 

Jerry and I brought Phoebe to Noah's and I was sure that she'd be freaked out and want to come back home with us. But she seemed so comfortable there almost immediately! When she realized there weren't any other pets around, she relaxed and didn't try to hide like I expected. Noah kept sending me updates (he knew I'd ask him 100 times a day if he didn't, ha) and she is thriving!

In addition to her dry food, she's been eating wet food three times a day. She also loves the warmer temperature in Noah's apartment (our thermostat is at 68 F; I don't know what Noah's is, but it's definitely warmer). We brought her favorite beds over there and she likes to lie in front of the heater. She's had no problem using the litter box (she never has, but I wasn't sure how she'd adjust). She seems truly happy!

I miss having her around, but because she's with Noah, I know that she's getting so much attention and love--and I can go see her anytime I want. Noah and his girlfriend (who also adores Phoebe) work opposite schedules, so she's rarely home alone. My house is a million times more peaceful without the fighting (Estelle doesn't like Chick and Duck, but they leave her alone). Feeding the pets is stress-free.

I never thought this would be a solution (but then again, I never expected Noah to move out so suddenly). It's been working out perfectly and I'm thrilled that Phoebe is doing so well. I want to bring my scale over there in a couple of weeks and see if she's gained any weight! ;)

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Friday Night Photos #134

I didn't think I took many photos this week, but I just found a LOT on my camera roll. Lots of random stuff! Here goes...

First, the belt I ended up making for Eli's Han Solo costume. I bought a faux leather bag at Goodwill for $6, then took it apart to use the faux leather. I had NO idea what I was doing--I'd never sewn faux leather before, I know nothing about Han Solo, and I just had to wing it. It's not accurate to the actual Han Solo belt, but that one is much more detailed than I wanted to get into. The main part I wanted was the gun holster. I still have to attach the belt buckle.

I also wanted to stain it darker. From what I read online, you can't stain faux leather; you have to paint it. Well, I wasn't going to go buy paint for this thing, so I tried using wood stain anyway. I loved the color when I applied it!

Unfortunately, even after several hours, it still wiped off. So it's the tan color and I'm not worried about it. 

I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the buckle. The Han Solo buckle basically an elongated silver hexagon. I thought about using 1/4 inch plywood and spray painting it gray. Or covering it with foil. But after looking around the garage, I found a very small piece of craft sheet metal. I can't remember why I bought it, but it was years ago and I'd held onto it. It was perfect!

Because it was so thin and could basically slice open Eli's abdomen while wearing it, I used CA glue to attach it to a scrap piece of 1/4-inch plywood. I cut out the hexagon shape and to keep it from looking too shiny and new, I used sandpaper to scuff it up. Then I spray painted the back and sides gray. I'm kind of impressed with how it turned out!

When I was laying out the faux leather to figure out what to do with it, I just tossed it on the floor (that's basically my "table" when I do projects). I turned my back for a second and the cats proved just how predictable they are, hahaha.

Set anything on the floor and the cats are immediately drawn to it.

Duck was so funny yesterday morning. He "helps" me do the Wordle and Connections puzzles after my run in the mornings by settling himself on my shins for a nap. Yesterday, he sprawled out like this--and he slept that way!

I guess I took a lot of pictures of Duck this week.  These ones were impossible to take without them just being a blur of black cat. Duck is obsessed with spaghetti noodles. He somehow knows when we make spaghetti and then he will literally try to play with it by batting at it with his paws while you're eating it. When you dangle it for him, he likes to hit it hard enough to break it in half--over and over--until you're left with a couple of inches.

Last night, Jerry and I were dangling the spaghetti for him and he was going nuts. Then he got a strand stuck to his head, with just the end dangling behind his ear. He was trying so hard to get it--he was basically chasing himself in circles with his mouth open (like a dog chasing his own tail). 

While I'm on the subject of cats, Noah and his girlfriend made a cat pizza, which I thought was cute! They both love cats and they volunteer at a local cat shelter.

When I was at Goodwill, I saw this little hat with some dog costumes and it was only $1. I thought it would be funny to get for Joey. I had to bribe him with a treat for him to keep it on long enough for a photo.

Becky sent me a super cute video of Riley getting her ears pierced, and she was SO brave. I commented on how cute her outfit was, and Becky sent me this picture so I could see the full effect. I love it when kids choose their own clothes!

My friend Paul, who I went to high school with, plays his guitar at a bar once a month. I've been wanting to go see him, but each time he's playing, we've had something going on. Finally, we made it up there (it's an hour and twenty minutes away). The bar was really cool--I love the mural. And Paul sounded fantastic, as usual.

And last but not least, I went to my mom's today to get these film slides from her attic. My grandpa (her dad) took most of these pictures in the late 1960s and I was very curious to look through them. I put them through the slide viewer and most of them were pictures of different landmarks and things while traveling. There were some pictures of people, though, which was fun to see. There are a few I'm going to get prints of. (What is pictured below is only about 5% of the number of slides!)  Next, I'm going to watch his 8mm films with a projector. I wish I could transfer them to digital, but I'm sure it would cost a fortune. Hopefully my dad's projector still runs ;)

Have a great weekend! xo

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Friday Night Photos #130

I don't have a ton of photos today, but I do have a "Good Lord!!" moment to write about. As I've written way too much, we've had a tough year--bad luck and mini catastrophes, one after another. And each time, I say, "Well, what else could possibly happen?" 

Nothing major has happened since the flood, so I finally decided to say it out loud to Jerry: "Our luck has turned around! What else could possibly happen?" Then Jerry started laughing, and said, "Really?! Really. Okay. Here, HOLD MY BEER!" Hahaha.

Over the weekend, I was working on a new sewing project--basically combining two pairs of pants into one--and each pair had a drawstring. I was only going to be using one drawstring for the finished pair. I am METICULOUS about picking up any piece of thread or string or anything like that because of what happened to Duck in 2021.

(If you're not aware, Chick and Duck ate some yarn. Chick threw it up, but Duck did not, and he got very sick. I took him to the vet as soon as I noticed what had happened, but he needed emergency surgery. He developed a high fever and spent several days at the vet. It was horrible. And it cost $3,000! Lesson learned: DO NOT LET CATS PLAY WITH YARN OR STRING OF ANY KIND.)

Sewing is kind of a scary hobby for me to have after what happened with Duck--but that's why I am extra careful about keeping all thread cleaned up. I even cut the tails into tiny pieces just in case one should fall on the floor. It drives Duck crazy that I don't let him play with it. Anyway...

Duck was attacking the drawstring while I was pulling it out of one pair of pants. Since it was so large, I decided it was okay for him to play with it. Jerry and I played with the cats (all four of them were having a blast) and when we were done, I looped the drawstring around a dining room chair.

The next day, Jerry and I decided to play with the cats again, but we couldn't find the drawstring. (You see where this is going.) I really wanted to get the cats playing again, but I couldn't find the string. Chick likes to take his toys into my room and hide them under my bed, so I figured that's what he did. I didn't bother looking; again, since the drawstring was so big I wasn't worried about the cats eating it.

BIG MISTAKE.

The next morning, Duck was sitting on my lap and I heard the god-awful noise of (who I thought was Phoebe) retching like she was going to throw up. I felt bad disturbing Duck, but I knew I'd have to clean up cat puke, so I got up to clean it. Then I noticed it was Chick and not Phoebe. Chick very rarely throws up, and the few times he has, it's just been a hairball (well, except for the yarn of course).

I noticed something hanging out of his mouth just a couple of inches, but I reflexively grabbed it (he was trying to swallow it back down). And then it was like one of those clowns pulling scarves out of their sleeve--it just kept coming.

The entire thing came out. And it was the ENTIRE DRAWSTRING. You can see just how long it is--about as tall as me!

The look on my face is actually a moment between my retching (that drawstring was the most foul-smelling thing I've ever caught whiff of) and Jerry laughing at me. I literally almost threw up while I held it up for a picture to show how long it is.

I was completely stunned by the whole thing. I am SO SO SO glad that he threw it up instead of it making its way into his intestines. He is so lucky.

And so are we! Can you even imagine if he'd needed surgery? That would be the cherry on top of the shitshow that has been the last year.

So, please don't ever assume that just because a string is huge means that it's safe for cats to play with. I will never, ever make that assumption again.

Anyway, after all of that, the rest of my pictures aren't exactly exciting. But here is what I've got...

Jerry sneaks (the most unflattering) photos of me all the time and then I come across them on my phone later; this is when I was making seitan. We love seitan and because it's so versatile, it's super fun to try new recipes for it. (I almost always have some form of seitan in the fridge for lunch or snacking.)

This week, I made a recipe for a "vegan turkey roast" and it was SO AMAZING--Jerry and I both immediately agreed that it was our new favorite. This picture is before glazing and baking, but we couldn't help slicing and eating it--next time, maybe we'll end up getting to the glaze part, haha. The herbs reminded me of Thanksgiving (and this is definitely what I'll be making this year).

I also decided to try making vegan pepperoni. Well, as soon as we tasted this, we declared it was our NEW favorite--just a couple of days after we said the "turkey" was our favorite. I honestly believe that this tastes so much like pepperoni, if it was on your pizza you'd never know that it was vegan. I think that's the only time I've claimed that seitan could fool someone into thinking it was meat. (I love seitan for what it is, and I don't try to make it look and taste just like meat--I just don't think that's possible--but this pepperoni is as close as it gets.)

I always rely on my kids to tell me honestly what they think, and neither of them eats seitan. However, they both said that this "tastes just like turkey pepperoni" (they have always preferred turkey pepperoni because it's not as greasy). The fact that they BOTH like this made me feel giddy, haha. This is perfect for snacking (and it's super healthy). Now, if I could just find an amazing vegan cheese recipe for homemade pizza... (I've tried so many. There is one that we like, but it's not what I would call "amazing". If you have one that is knock-your-socks-off good, please share!)

Speaking of pizza, Eli decided he was going to ask his girlfriend to homecoming by making a pizza at work with "HOCO" spelled out in pepperoni--hahaha! (They are going to homecoming tomorrow; it's Eli's last one, so it's bittersweet.)

When he told me about the pizza idea, I remembered that I have a picture of Jerry from when we were dating, and he worked at a pizza place. One day, he knew I was going in there to see him, and he made this crust with "I <3 U" cut out. Eli totally one-upped that, haha. 

This was a great week for Eli because he also bought his first car! It's a 2008 Volvo, and my parents' neighbor sold it to him for $500. (Luckily, he'd started saving up for a car in the summer and had the money.) It's in fantastic condition--and naturally, he's thrilled. After what happened to him with the Patriot, he deserves this.

And that's all I've got. Have a great weekend! xovegan deli sliced turkey

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Three Things Thursday: Cat Quirks

I'm actually really excited about this post. A lot of times, I think of good topic ideas for "Three Things Thursday", but then I have a hard time coming up with three things that fit the topic! For this post, I had SUCH hard time narrowing it down; I literally considered making this a one-time "Thirty Things Thursday", hahaha.

So, what has me so enthusiastic with ideas? Cat quirks that make them the coolest pets ever.

Here are three things that are quirky, but awesome about cats.

1. Their curiosity.

"Curiosity killed the cat" and "curious as a cat" are sayings for a reason. When it comes to wondering what things are and how they work, cats are like toddlers (to the tenth power). If you bring something new into the house (it doesn't matter what it is) they simply MUST find out everything about it. Why is it here? What is it? Where are you going to put it? Of course, it belongs to them (regardless of what it is). They sniff all around it, tentatively touch it, then whole-heartedly touch it, and then sit on or in it.

Their favorite things are boxes. I've seen a bunch of memes about "how to catch a cat" and it's literally just placing a box on the floor. Within 60 seconds, you'll have caught a cat, guaranteed. ;)  Buy them toys that come in boxes, and they'll ignore the toy but most certainly go inside the box. They also have no doubt that their body will fit into any size box. Just ask Duck--today, he decided to "sit" in this tiny box. I was cracking up at how chill he was, hanging out in the box.

Some cats need constant attention (i.e. Duck), and the easiest way to entertain them is to keep them curious. So, all I have to do is move something from one part of the house to the other--even if it's just across the room--because all of the cats will be dying of curiosity. If I just tip their scratching pad on its side, all four of the cats have to go inspect it. Or I'll drape a blanket over a chair, and suddenly, the cats want to see inside the fort--then hang out in there for a while.

Here, all I did was put their scratcher on a couple of chairs. Entertainment for HOURS.

2. Parkour Skills

If you're not familiar with parkour (pronounced par-core), Britannica describes it like this:

It's really amazing to watch people do it, but to see CATS do it? Hilarious. Sometimes one of the cats (or both Chick and Duck together) will suddenly act like they snorted six lines of cocaine. They run as fast as they can through the house--up and over the couch, across the treadmill console, sliding underneath chairs, jumping completely over the coffee table, using my lap or shoulders to leap as far as they can, yet they still somehow maintain enough grace not to step on unintended objects. They make it through all of the obstacles like they're David Goggins during SEAL training.

There is nothing that compares to the entertainment of watching this happen. When one or more of the cats goes completely crazy in my house, all of us stop whatever we're doing and just watch. It's been extra funny since we replaced the carpet with vinyl planking--the cats will try to go from 0 to 60 mph in a millisecond, and they end up running in place for a second until they're able to propel forward.

"This treadmill looks like a comfy place to hang out."

I'm not sure if cats ever stop doing this. Phoebe is 15 years old, all of 5 pounds, and once in a while she'll just tear through the house like a bat out of hell. The kittens (I still call them that, even though they're THREE years old--can you believe how long we've had them already?) like to chase each other in this way. Let's say Chick is chasing Duck--they do all of the parkour moves all over the place--and then somehow when they race back through the living room, it'll be Duck chasing Chick. At some point, they switch!

"I'm just gonna hang out here on your knee for a while, so don't move."

3. Their finickiness.

This sounds like a negative thing, but it's SO FUNNY how finicky cats can be are. (There are also a ton of memes about this.) "You may pet me exactly four strokes. Don't test me by attempting a fifth." "You may touch me here, but not a single hair over here" (a centimeter away). "My toe beans are off limits. Most of the time. You can try and see what happens." "Whatever happens, do not scratch above the base of my tail for more than 1.6 seconds." (You get the idea.)

Phoebe, just waiting for Jerry to make a wrong move.

Basically, cats know what they like and what they don't like and they are not afraid to let you know. Once you learn what is "acceptable" to them, it's natural. But they may change their mind at any moment about how many times you may pet their face before moving to scratch their chin, or whether it's okay to pet their belly. It's basically a gamble that we cat-people are always willing to make. Just look at the scars on our arms.

This may not fit under "finicky", but cat-people will also attest to the fact that you should never, ever, under any circumstances, move a cat that is asleep. And God forbid you move that cat if they're sleeping on your lap.

They are so sweet when they sleep that it just seems cruel to move them. So what if I stop drinking any beverages to avoid having to get up and pee or if I'm late to an appointment or ignore someone knocking on the door? Moving the cat? No way! ;)

As obvious as it is, I am a total cat-person, through and through. They are so entertaining, loving, fun, curious, and hilarious!

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