9.5 Lives

Look at that face.

It's sooooo innocent. Not.

Sept. 27 marked the half-birthday of our fluffy friends. 9.5 to be exact. There was no cake or singing; purring perhaps.

It's probably safe to say that we are not really pet owners; I am pretty certain that we are the ones who are owned by our pets.

Aside from dirty litter boxes and stinky wet food, our Maine Coons really do add to our family... stuff like big clumps of fur on the clean laundry; snags on the carpets, clothing, and sofa; hairballs in the hallway, etc.  Oh, I could dust and vacuum every day (which I do not do), and we'd still have cat hair everywhere. 

Home is where the cat hair sticks to everything but the cat. 

We now keep jumbo lint rollers in the glovebox of each car in the Smith fleet. I wear a lot of black clothing, which seems to have a strong magnetic draw for cat fur. Its funny how I never notice that I'm coated in cat hair until I'm in the car, going someplace where I have to look nice.  

I'm not complaining about being owned by Bartholomew and Jemima. Well, not much. 

Bart and 'Mima started out so tiny and adorable nine years ago.

But even at three months old, these two appear to be plotting how to become co-dictators in the Kingdom of Smith. I can see it in their eyes. Their plan is to dominate while maintaining cuteness.

The Smith cats are now jumbo-sized, and of course, they are still adorable, weighing in at 17 and 22 pounds. Large and in charge? I think so.

Although the kittehs are now "mature," they both love to play and even enjoy frolicking in catnip from time to time. I think they will always have some amount of kitten left in 'em.

Did someone say that you cannot teach an old cat new tricks? Or something like that?

Several years ago, we taught Jemima how to shake paws. Or rather, she taught us... It literally took five minutes for her to catch on.  She has now added high-fives and fist/paw bumps to her repertoire.

For years, a forlorn Bartholomew has watched from the sidelines as his sister shook hands and received treats. He finally figured out that something fishy was going on with the unequal distribution of crunchy Temptations. We have always given him sympathy treats as he observed his sister receiving praise and food as a reward for her shaking behavior. Within the past few months, he has finally learned how to shake hands/paws. It just took him A LOT longer to figure things out.

Bartholomew's just special, I guess...

Not only do our pets think they own us, these two think they own everything. They do mark their territory, but it's not like you're thinking... spraying is not allowed! They claim ownership by rubbing, licking, and taking/hiding things.

We have repeatedly left paperback books out on the counter or coffee table, only to discover the covers full of bite marks. Jemima just LOVES a good book. Although she prefers paperback books and glossy magazine covers, she has been known to tear into a hardbound book. We once had to pay a nominal fee to the library in Roseville because our kitty girl ate some of the pages of a newly released book. Thankfully, we were not required to pay for a replacement book. The librarian was amused at the story we told, and it helped since she, too, was a cat lover. She charged us less than a buck for damages. She even wrote in the book, next to the pierced pages, "Cat bites" along with the date. Jemima left her mark, indeed. Every time we visited the library after that incident, we were remembered as the people with the book-loving cat. (I think the librarian recognized me by the globs of cat fur on my black clothing...)

Recently, Mr. Smith received a postcard for a free beverage at S-bucks. I placed it on the desk in the study so he'd be certain to see it. 

'Mima spied it first.

"Mine!"

The old "My cat ate my homework" excuse comes to mind... Wait! Dogs, not cats, usually get the blame for that one. We must have a doglike cat.

The barista loved the story about why the coupon looked the way it did. I noticed that there was cat hair attached to the card when we redeemed it, but I didn't say anything, and neither did he. I hope the fur didn't end up in Mr. Smith's free Frappuccino.

Just this month, the Starbuck's Rewards program discontinued mailing out postcards for free drinks. They've gone electronic. I pretty certain it's all because of us and our coupon eating cat. :-P Ha!

Not only does this beastie have a paper eating fetish, she enjoys making all kinds of noise in the wee hours of the morning. I awoke one night/morning to hear the sound of something that sounded like metal scraping across the hardwood floors only because it WAS metal scraping across the hardwood floors. Jemima had discovered one of our son's belts upstairs in his room. She carried it in her teeth, out of his room, through a hallway, across the gameroom, down a flight of stairs, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into our room, dragging the metal buckle across carpet, tile, and wood floor surfaces. The sound wasn't so bad when it was muffled by carpet fibers, but metal scraping over wood flooring in the still of the night is/was noisy! She deposited her "toy" near the foot of our bed and loudly requested that we play with her. As I squinted at the clock, I made out the time as being 3:47 AM; a purrrfectly normal time for fun and games.

Our dear, sweet Bartholomew is just too lazy to get into much trouble. He usually sleeps through all of Jemima's late night antics. He sleeps though just about everything else, too. Wait! I take that back. He is awake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He's also up and about around 3 AM each and every night to go to the litter box. Ugh!

The litter box is located in the master bathroom's toilet room. This has turned out to be an ideal location, as Mr. Smith and I are the only ones who use that room, and we are highly motivated to keep it tidy. When the door to the "water closet" is opened, it blocks the box from view, but the cats can still get in and out. (No, there are no litter box photos to share.)

After Bart does his business, he vigorously scratches on the walls, the door, the floor, and just about every other surface. However, he completely misses the part about scratching inside the litter box to cover what he deposited there. Duh! He then runs at warp speed, out of the bathroom and through our bedroom. Most nights, I am so tired that I sleep through the commotion, but I do hear it more often than I'd like. We keep saying that we should teach our cats how to use the toilet, but I have a problem with leaving the toilet seat up all of the time. I don't really mind scooping poop, but I just wish Bart would hear nature's call during the daylight hours.

Also in the wee hours, the cats will ninja their way into/onto our bed. This twilight trespassing is fine as long as they do not trample over delicate body parts in the process. Remember, our kitty cats are large-ish, weighty, jumbo-sized, corpulent even. More than a time or two, Mr. Smith and I both have been awakened with a start. Me-OWWWWW!

Bart and Jemima gravitate to MY side of the bed, for some reason, and the most common landing spot is on top of my feet or on my calves. I'm sure they choose me because they love me the most. Yeah, right. Or it could be that the snoring that emanates from my mister forces the kitties over to the the quiet side of the Stearns and Foster.

By the time my tootsies are picking up good vibrations from a gentle purr, I find that my mind is wide awake, and my feet are fast asleep from having a hefty cat draped over them. And of course, once I'm awake I realize that I need to go to the bathroom. I then determine it is not possible to walk on feet that are asleep and numb, so I daren't attempt to stand. Perhaps crawling to the commode is an option. Hmmmmm...

Stretch, turn, shift, trill, purr, cat nap -- I'm glad somebody's able to sleep.

Twenty-plus pounds of cat meat...

Our veterinarian says that Bart is NOT overweight. He's perfect for his massive Maine Coon frame. He truly is a gentle giant. Goofy, but gentle.

These flowers are obviously Bart's. 

All cardboard boxes belong to the cats.

If it fits, it ships.

Possession is nine-tenths of the law.

Yep, Bart and Jemina are in charge at this house. We are clearly the ones who are owned -- or it could be that we are possessed.

Twenty?!!!

It seems like it was just yesterday that our little boy was REALLY little. 

That lil' boy grew...

...and grew.

 

And he grew some more.

(However, he is NOT gruesome.)

Twenty years? REALLY?!!!! It is hard to believe. The time has gone by oh, so quickly. We have certainly enjoyed seeing what our boy has become over the past two decades, and we know that there is much more "fun" in store.

Although M is our firstborn, he is always the last to celebrate during the month of September. It's a good thing he has an easy-going temperament. He patiently waits as his sisters each have their turn in the limelight -- or candlelight. Quite honestly, I am sufficiently burned out on sweets by the time the 22nd rolls around. Thankfully, my boy has good taste when it comes to dessert, so I can usually stomach one more sweet thing, knowing it'll be yummy!

This year, M's request for birthday cake was an unusual one. It wasn't that it was a weird flavor or anything; the birthday celebrant wanted to bake his own cake. He doesn't need me any more. I have always baked the kids' cakes, or ordered something special from a bakery or Baskin-Robbins, but never have I ever let the Smithlings make their own cake.

I happily turned the kitchen over to my lil' boy.

The cake our son wanted to "build" was to be fashioned after a cake in the game Portal.  In this virtual world, a cake is used as a promised reward to keep the player motivated to persevere. But the reward doesn't really exist. Or does it?

"The cake is a lie."

The real cake looks virtually the same as the computer generated one -- only tastier. There were four layers of chocolately goodness with four sticks of butter in the frosting. No lie!

The cake was rich, moist, dense, and it weighed a ton. Well... maybe it didn't quite weigh 2,000 pounds, but it did had a lot of heft to it. I have no idea what the caloric count was per serving. Maybe the number 2,000 comes into play here. :-P  I think it would be safe to say that a sliver totaled a whole big bunch of calories. I've heard it said that calories only exist if you count them. Hmmm... Calories don't count on special occasions, any way. Besides, there was too much fun to be had to be worried about calories, carbs, fat grams and such.

Jemima certainly was not worried about the cake's nutrition statistics. She had other things to fret over. Our kitty girl had to wear the party dress one more time. (Millie insisted!) She looks ridiculous -- and quite unhappy about the birthday party dress code.

One of M's gifts was a fleecy throw from Costco. He had told me last year that he wanted one of these, but they were sold out before I had a chance to purchase one. Apparently he forgot about this request over the past year. I remembered! I was soooo happy that I found this blanket at Costco back in late July; never mind that it was a 105° day. I am just glad that I remembered where I had hidden it.

When my son saw the lamb on the front, he thought it was a costume of some sort and couldn't imagine why on earth I would give him such a silly gift. Perhaps the whole cat in a costume episode had taken his thinking to this point. He was confused! Thankfully, there was no confusion as he unwrapped a pair of Oakley sunglasses. I had picked the right ones.

Ahhh! The birthdaze are over... All three Smithlings are smiling, so I guess it was a good birthmonth for all.

Fourteen

Freshly harvested bagels were on the menu for the birthday girl's breakfast. Yes, we know that bagels do not grow on trees, but on September 18th of every year, at the Smith Haus, they do.

This is was what the birthday girl looked like nine years ago today, when she turned five. I believe that this was the second year that the bagel tree was in production. If I remember correctly, Millie Girl planted the bagel tree when she was three; the first "fruit" appeared on her fourth birthday, and now, ten years later, we are still picking bagels. Never mind that we are no longer in the same state that the original tree is rooted in...Details, details!

 

 Fast forward to now:

 The early bird gets the bagel.

 It was a bumper crop!

As silly as the bagel tree tradition is, we are planning on keeping it going for as long as Millie lives with us or near us. 

Sadly, it was not a national holiday, so everyone had to go to work or school. 

I packed a school lunch with goodies included for all of the lunch table friends who sit with my girlie. Of course, I had to do "Sharpie" art on the napkin.

 Where did our California girl want to go to eat dinner on her special day?

In-N-Out, of course!

In the b-day girl's opinion, it's not a P-A-R-T-Y if there aren't streamers. Just before midnight, on Birthday Eve, I enlisted the decorating help of the older two Smithlings.  Mr. S. and Millie were both sound asleep, so we three night owls decorated very quietly. In an attempt to come up with something new, we added bows made out of crepe paper to the traditional twisted streamers. A scattering of rhinestones on the counter served as confetti and added just the right amount of bling. 
(We "done" good!) :-P

After dinner, but before dessert, there was work to be done. There were fourteen clues that the birthday girl had to solve. 

 After the fourth or fifth clue, Millie got a clue and realized that there just might be a gift waiting for her at each clue location. She was right. However, she didn't know how many wrapped presents there would be. Some packages had her favorite candy bar or something small, but there were fourteen different gifts. She ended up receiving clothing, books, glitter makeup, a new lunch bag, a tote, and lots of other goodies. It's QUANTITY, not quality? :-)

The big brother in the household had a pair of Scandalous Designs sandals made for his sister. I think he chose the perfect design -- COLORFUL, just like the birthday girlie's personality. :-) Best of all, they fit me!

Millie's sister knows her well. Liesey gave her sis a magazine all about One Direction, as well as an iTunes preorder for the Fab Five's upcoming album.


From bagels to ice cream cake, and all the good stuff in between, it was a delicious day.

  Happy Birthday, Millie Girl! 

Legally (Dark) Blonde?

She's legal! 

Our #2 Smithling turned EIGHTEEN today!

What's the first thing Liesey wanted to do now that she's of legal age? Why, purchase spray paint at The Home Depot, of course. It looks like our girl is going to paint the town red...

The next stop after church was at Quick Trip so our daughter could purchase her first (last, and only!) lottery ticket. It was NOT a winning ticket -- what a surprise. The thought of our girlie earning $1,000/week for the next twenty years did have a certain appeal, but I don't think she'll/we'll be scratching again any time soon.

Our youngest Smithling really wanted to go all out on decorations for her big sister's big celebration, but crepe paper and helium are not things that mean much to the b-day girl. In lieu of party streamers and other b-day decor, I allowed Millie to select a party dress for Jemima. Our kitty girl was not amused, but we were! And it cost much less than a dozen balloons. :-P

Seriously?

Just look at 'Mima's face. Bewilderment.

We think that she knew this dress was really intended for a d-o-g.

We took the b-day girl...er, uh, young woman...and her friends, Kaytlynn and Isabel, to downtown Ft. W. for an afternoon of shopping. First stop? The TX Rangers store! Our girlie was wanting a #18 Mitch Moreland jersey; however, they didn't have any in stock. They could, however, make us one for an additional $70 fee to the already ridiculously high price of a jersey. We opted to search for a cheaper option on-line. Oh! If only Liesey would have won the lottery... Sigh! After we visited a few more stores in Sundance Square, it was time to have dinner.

Our rooftop meal at the Reata was YUMMY!

We returned home to Keller for dessert and presents. 

This was such a big birthday celebration, it required TWO cakes. Well, they were small ones. The birthday celebrant and I had made a trip to EatZi's on Saturday to select her dessert. We love the name of this place, and the food they serve up there is all the more reason to love it. Oh, my! It was hard to decide which was tastier -- the chocolate oblivion cake or carrot cake. Repeated tastings were required. No clear winner emerged. 

Happy Birthday, Dear Favorite Oldest Daughter! We love you!

It's About Time...

...for a

We might be crazy, but our family actually thinks it's fun to spend time together in the car going places. There is as much joy in the journey as there is in reaching the final destination. And it's a good thing we all get along, because over the Labor Day weekend, we loaded up the rental car, bid a fond farewell to Bartholomew and Jemima, and hit the road. Destination: Grandpa's house!

Hooray for duct tape!

Mr. Smith and the two older Smithlings had a four-day weekend. Our youngest only had a three-day weekend. No problem! We pulled Millie out of school for day #5 of the new school year, so she, too, could make the trek to see Grandpa. We were not about to leave a thirteen-year-old home alone for a l-o-n-g weekend.  Although, I must say that there have been times I would have considered doing so...
Not really.
No, REALLY...
No, I'm just joking. I think.

After fifteen hours on the road, we rolled into rural Shelburn in time for a late dinner. (Thank you, Daddy! The steaks were grilled to perfection.) We drove in rain throughout most of Missouri and Illinois, compliments of the remains of Hurricane Isaac. Normally the drive from TX to IN takes fourteen hours, but this time the weather definitely slowed us down a bit. 

It was DEFINITELY worth all the hours of driving in the rain to get a Grandpa hug!

Here are more photos of time well spent:

Seeing double

Time for reflection

Shakamak State Park is a mere 15 minutes from my Dad's house. Oh, there are so many memories that were made here; happy times from my childhood of family picnics, beautiful fall foliage, hikes, church camp, etc.

 Easily amused...

Hoosier Beauty

Sadly, it was not yet time for fall colors. Oh, how I'd love to come back in a few weeks to see the change in scenery and enjoy the sights and smells of fall.  If you use your imagination, there seems to be a slight tinge of orange on the tree in the right side of the photo. Wishful thinking?

Time for new shades?

We took time out to stop for a chocolate dipped crunch cone (340 calories of deliciousness) and a walk down memory lane...We treat you right! 

Anytime we are in the Hoosier state, there is always time to play euchre. The kids have realized that whoever teams up with Grandpa will be on the winning team. No cheating is allowed! Or at least we think there is no cheating. A good time was had by all; even the losers had fun.


All good things must come to an end. Moments before we hit the road, I snapped a couple of "timely" pictures to help tell my tale.

This is one of the clocks at my dad's house. It was originally my grandfather's grandfather clock, and now it is Dad's. Normally when we visit, we have to silence the chimes so everyone sleeps without being awakened by the striking of each hour, quarter-hour, and half-hour; however, this visit, we let 'em ring. And I slept! There was only one night when I awoke to hear the clock strike four bells. It was a familiar, comforting sound. Oh, the bells, bells, bells! The ringing was comforting until I started trying to remember "The Bells" by Edgar Allen Poe. The mind thinks about crazy things in a half-awake state. I couldn't recall much of what I had committed to memory as a high school student, so I soon gave up my futile exercise.

Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Before I drifted back to sleep, my thoughts shifted from bells to Grandpa Thompson and his clock. He was always so proud of his timepiece, and he took good care of it. Grandpa would wear soft cloth gloves as he lifted the weights to wind the clock, as he didn't want the oils from his skin to cause the brass to tarnish. I guess he literally had time on his hands each time he wound his clock! 

My grandfather bought the grandfather clock sometime when I was in elementary school -- I do not remember exactly what year it was. I do know that he had owned the clock for many years before I told him something he didn't know about his clock.

The Latin phrase "Tempus Fugit" is inscribed at the top of the clock. During my Freshman year of high school, as I was taking first-year Latin, I learned what the phrase meant. I shared with my granddad that his clock said, "Time flees" if translated literally. I told him that he could just say that it meant "Time flies." Sadly, that phrase and a few others are all I remember from two years of Latin class. My grandpa thought that I was the most clever fourteen-year-old. And he was proud of learning Latin at his advanced age. Grandpa made a point of telling his visitors that I had taught him what his clock said, and then he would give the translation. 

Time flees, flies, and once it's flown, you cannot do anything to get it back. Tempus fugit!

So, why is it that time flies even faster when you're havin' fun? It just works that way, I suppose. Our weekend flew, so that should tell you that we had fun.