The Kitten Rescue Mission

 So, I did something this weekend that will surprise no one who knew me as a child. Allow me to explain.

Since Alex and I moved into our home, we have been observing the escapades of some of the local feral cats. A couple of houses nearby feed them, and they are always having kittens. One of these mother cats and her fine litter of four kittens took to hanging around our back yard and porch. We had only seen them at a distance until one morning when I saw this pile of cuteness on our back doormat.

I heard that "aww." Don't act like you didn't say it.

Alex and I concluded that we must do something about these kittens. When they were old enough to be away from their mother, we would trap them and take them to the local shelter. They were young and awfully cute, so they had a good chance at finding homes. I wanted to wait until they were weaned because I was worried about our ability to catch the mother, considering that she had lived on the streets her whole life and was understandably quite skittish. Over the next several weeks, they came and went as they pleased. We wouldn't see them for a few days, then Phineas, our ever-vigilant Siamese, would trill at the window. Phineas trills any time he sees a cat outside, so he would alert us when the kittens were nearby. They would get right up to our doormat, but the second we moved to open the door, they would scatter. We let them be, hoping that it would make them easier to trap when the time came. They grew bigger, and we were just about ready to get a trap.

They still liked to sleep on our doormat in the sweet little cuddle pile.

This last Saturday, I was cleaning the house in preparation for a Christmas party with my friends, and I heard Phineas' telltale chirping. Sure enough, we had visitors. The kittens were laying in the warm sun on our back porch. But today, I noticed something off. one of the little tabbies was limping, putting no weight at all on his front leg. I snuck out the front door and crept toward the back porch to get a closer look, and in some vain hope that I could scoop him up in a towel and take him in to a vet. The kittens scattered, of course. As the injured tabby fled, I saw how his leg dangled, totally useless. It must hurt terribly, and dragging it around would leave the poor thing vulnerable to predators and accidents. As a lifelong animal lover, I couldn't just let him go. I asked Alex to pick up a trap on his way home from the barber shop. Today was the day to trap the kittens. I had picked a chicken to make soup for dinner, and I put some chicken scraps in each of the two traps. We placed the taps and waited.

As we were putting away the leftovers from dinner, we looked out and sure enough one of the traps had snapped closed, trapping a kitten. It wasn't the injured kitten, but it was still a kitten that could possibly be tamed and adopted. I brought the kitten inside and Alex helped me shuffle it into a carrier and reset the trap. As I snuck outside to place the trap, I heard our second trap snap closed. Kitten number two! We have two carriers, so into a second carrier the second kitten went, and out went the trap. Within minutes, we had kitten number three! They were either really hungry or kinda dumb. Finally, the only kitten left was our little gimpy tabby. We placed the traps, and hovered by the window. He crawled into the trap and started nibbling at the wet food we placed inside. He didn't step on the pressure plate that triggered the door immediately, only having one front leg working and all, but our patience was rewarded. We shouted in victory as the trap finally snapped closed. We had all four kittens, including the one with the busted leg!

We placed the trap one last time just to see if we could get lucky enough to get the mother cat. She was smart, so surely she would flee after the kittens were captured. She must have been starving after feeding four kittens for so long, because it wasn't long before she, too, was in our trap. We had two carriers with two kittens apiece, so we decided to keep the mother in the trap and just make sure she could see her kittens. They were all not pleased with the whole situation, but they were warm, safe, and had no further injuries from the trapping process. The time from the first kitten to all five cats in the house was only an hour. I was thinking that we'd trap them over the course of a couple weeks, but I guess they wanted to stay together. With them in the crates, I was able to get a good look at them. Aside from that awful leg and being skinny, they looked quite healthy. They weren't sneezing, and their eyes, wide with fear, were bright and clear. And their markings were beautiful, especially the calicos. If they could be tamed, they would surely steal some hearts and get adopted.

Mama kitty. She's small and scrawny, but she's tough, raising four kittens.

These little girls are so cute, and very vocal.

The one on the left is out little gimpy baby

I called the animal shelter, and it was closed (no surprise at 7:30pm), so I was transferred to the non-emergency police line. They said to call in the morning and someone from animal control would be able to pick up the family and bring them to the shelter. Until then, we had five feral cats in our entryway. Our two cats, ever curious, wandered over to make friends, but the cat family was having none of it. That mother cat has quite the stink eye, and she aimed it right at Phineas. We put towels over the carriers and left the cats in peace.

At about 5am the next morning, I awoke to the sound of mewling kittens. I went to check on them, and they were all fine, just upset and probably hungry. I gave them a bit of food and tried to go back to bed. They kept crying. On that day, I learned that I cannot sleep with kittens meowing nearby. It's like a baby cry, I have a deep need to attend to it. So, after lying in bed for a while, I started my day. The kittens had wet the crates and it stank, but I wasn't about to move them and risk an escape. Animal control would be there soon enough and then I'd clean the carriers and the floor. At 8am, I called and explained the situation to the dispatcher. She took my address and phone number, and told me an officer would be out soon to pick them up. I busied myself with chores and tried to ignore the periodic chorus of pathetic kitten mews.

Around 9:45, an officer arrived with some transport cages. We had made his job relatively easy, having the cats all in carriers and locking our own cats away in other rooms. The transfer of the mother cat, however, didn't go as planned. The officer lined up his cage with ours and opened the doors. The cages weren't lined up quite right and she bolted out the gap and smacked right into the glass window in an attempt to escape. Thwarted by the glass, she climbed the blinds (if she wasn't so skinny, I'm sure they would have come crashing down), and clung to the rod at the top of the window. The officer retrieved a net from his truck and tried to fish the cat down from her perch. She freaked out and bolted, leaping all the way down and skittering across the house, finally coming to an abrupt stop on top of a shelf in the dining room. Parkour athletes have nothing on feral cats, this little mama kitty could move. She tried climbing the wall, but there was nowhere for her to go. The animal control officer finally coaxed, okay coerced, her into the net.

The kittens were the easy part, he could just pick them up by their little scruffs and put them in the transport cage. He said that they would get the leg looked at by a vet and away they went. I cleaned the front area (this moment brought to you by Nature's Miracle, best stuff for getting cat pee smell out of anything) and wiped down anywhere the mother cat had run, and Alex took the carriers outside to hose down and air out.

I will be checking the "Adoptable Pets" section of the Denton Animal Shelter page in the coming weeks, looking for two little calicos and two little tabbies. Will the one with the bad leg make a full recovery, or will he lose the leg? Maybe I'll see the mother cat up for adoption. Maybe I'll see the mother cat back in my backyard, this time with a clipped ear (the universal sign that the cat has been trapped and spayed), saved from a life of constant pregnancy and kitten-rearing. I only know that as I write this, they may be scared and confused, but on a damp, chilly night, they are warm and fed. That's the best I can do. I can't save the whole colony, but that tabby with the gimpy leg has a chance at a life without pain. It may not matter to the world, but it matters to that family of cats.

And it matters to me.

Merry Christmas a few days early, everyone.

Thirty, Nerdy, and Trying

 Well look who managed to make it to 30!

Alex and I went to the Dallas Arboretum to see their pumpkin display

Yeah, I’m now officially entering my third decade on this high-speed space rock, and honestly, I’m glad to be doing so. I know plenty of folks older than me who say that their thirties are some of the best years of their lives, and maybe I’ll be in that camp. Either way, I’m ready for my birthday party to kick off the fall and winter holiday sprint. I’ve always kind of liked that about my birthday. Halloween, though it is my second favorite holiday, may not be celebrated until after my birthday. It’s the appetizer, and everyone knows the appetizers are some of the best things on a menu.

It really doesn’t seem like enough to measure life in something as cold and impersonal as time, at least not to me. My brother died at 17, that seems like almost nothing. There has to be a better measure.

I am reminded of the song “Seasons of Love” from the musical Rent (which I have seen live), and with a landmark birthday, it’s kind of interesting to look at how we have measured the years of our lives. In jobs we’ve worked? Vacations taken? Books read? Pandemics survived? (please let that one stay at one) The conclusion of the song is to measure your life in love. But that begs the question, how can you measure your life in love? Love is hard to count. If you, my readers will indulge me, I’d like to share some ways that I measure the love that makes my life.

Love is not something just to be received, it has to be given. I am blessed every day with opportunities to give love to other people. And not just people, my dear cats get loved from toe beans to tail-tip every single day. Love goes beyond the romantic, and as I always say, love is a verb. Love is present in the small things that can be done for someone else every day. In listening and being consistent. In an honest answer and an offer of help. Every bit of love I can give to anyone else makes up the measure of my life, more than any date on the calendar possibly can. I fully admit that I am far from the most loving person in any room, but darn it I try.

How can I measure love and not count the love that is shown to me every day? A grand gesture is great every now and then, but just as important are the daily, consistent little snippets of love. The feeling that someone actively wants to be around me says a great deal. I have the blessing of people who love me, and no matter how much love I give, it can’t tip the scale on the love that I have been given. And it shouldn’t. That’s the big thing, love doesn’t keep score. It doesn’t have to be tit for tat. Which is great, because that would be exhausting.

Finally, and most importantly, I have the immeasurable love of my Creator. Which honestly isn’t fair to put on here because everyone has the same amount, and the amount can’t be measured. That one is on a whole other level, so I won’t dwell on it too long.

Love given, love received, and love infinite. Not a bad way to measure, and not a bad life. If the moon comes crashing out of the sky tomorrow, I’m raising a toast and going out with a smile. The phrase “Thirty, flirty, and thriving” is entirely too I-drink-my-pumpkin-spice-latte-out-of-an-Ugg-boot for me. I’m more of an I-drink-my-black-coffee-out-of-a-combat-boot kind of girly. Maybe the phrase on my silly birthday shirt should be “Thirty, nerdy, and trying.” Because that’s who I am. And I would never want to be anyone else. Getting older isn’t bad, and it sure beats the alternative. I fully intend to (pardon my dismembering of Latin) carpe the diem, the week, the month, and the year. Happy birthday to me, and I hope you have a good day.

Older and hopefully wiser,

Kim

Farewell to AnimeFest

 This last weekend was the last AnimeFest. The heads of the convention have decided not to continue holding the event. I have been to this convention six times and it will always have a special place in my heart. Every convention is a little bit different, and some are better than others. AnimeFest has the distinction of always being fairly well-run and having some of my favorite panelists and artists every year. So, as a send-off to this event, I would like to share some special memories I have of AnimeFest.

Charlie was so much fun to cosplay, she's definitely going to come out again at future cons.

-The first AnimeFest I ever attended was a month after I moved to Texas. It was the first convention I was able to attend after I moved. Looking back on the pictures, I can't help but smile. The big anime that year was Yuri on Ice!!! (the exclamation points are part of the title, I don't make the rules), and a college friend who lived in Maryland at the time flew down and joined in the merriment. We cosplayed our favorite characters and the Yuri on Ice!!! photoshoot was one of the biggest ones I have ever participated in, second only to the Disney shoot at Katsucon.

Look at me and Rachael, being silly

-AnimeFest used to host a competition called Ani-Idol, where contestants would sing prepared songs from various anime in front of judges for prizes. Out of many contestants, I made the finals. The finals were held at 9am on Sunday. Now, anyone who has sung knows that this is not the optimal time to be singing, especially not if you happen to be a soprano like myself. High notes tend to not happen before 10am without a lot of preparation, and the third day of an anime convention is not conducive to proper vocal prep. I got out of bed at 6am after being out until 1am to be in cosplay (I got a score bonus for cosplaying the show I was singing from), warmed up, and ready to perform. I walked away with fifth place, and I was very proud of myself.

I was dressed as Kotori from Love Live!

-I walked into my hotel room with a bag, announcing "Look what I won at a panel!" This happened every. Single. Year. One year, I made it my goal to acquire as much free stuff as I could. This meant trying to get on stage in every game panel I could. At the end of the convention, my pile of free stuff was larger than my pile of stuff that I bought. 

-Speaking of interesting things bought at a convention, at one point I bought a few volumes of manga. They were wrapped in plastic, and when I went back to the hotel room, I unwrapped them. A DVD fell out of one. A DVD with the logo of the publisher and no other information. In a volume of manga. My friends and I were all rather confused. So we all agreed that whatever this thing was, it needed to be investigated. We popped in in a DVD player and discovered......it was a bunch of trailers for anime from the early 2000's. We watched the trailers and laughed at how absurd the whole situation was.

-Looking back at my pictures, I realized that AnimeFest was where I first wore one of my most iconic cosplays, Ariel in her pink ball gown. I love this cosplay, it would make my six-year-old self proud. It seems appropriate that the final year for AnimeFest would be the year I show off one of my best props, Charlie's battle trident.

I always love wearing this cosplay

Conventions are a unique experience that is kind of hard to describe. This is partially because some of the best things about cons are those small moments that aren't on the schedule, that just kind of happen. Like bursting into a hotel room with a free poster and explaining the grand tale of my victory in a trivia panel though my deep knowledge of the manga of highest art that is Ranma 1/2. Or waiting in line for a panel and making the acquaintance of a first time con-goer who had no idea that there were so many people as nerdy as them. Or being in a hotel with 10,000+ people and somehow managing to run into the same person three times in a single day, then exchanging social media info and suddenly having a new friend. 

Thank you to everyone who made AnimeFest happen over the years, your efforts were appreciated. I hope my friends and I can find a new con in DFW during the summer, because I need something between the Texas Frightmare and the TRF. I'm sad to see it end, but I'm glad I got six years of AnimeFest. Here's to even more cons with even more memories.

Grocery Shopping Victory!

 This blog post is nothing deep, it's just a story about my life that I made interesting through narrating in my own head like a cartoon character.

It all started when I received a coupon in the mail. This was a coupon for $20 off of a $200 purchase at Kroger. I do all of the shopping for Alex and myself, as well as a portion of shopping for our friend who rents our spare room (he joins us for dinner most nights because it's easier to just make one meal for everyone). The weekly grocery shop has totaled over $200 more than once, especially if there are non-food items on the list. This should be a cinch. I prepared my list for Friday. I get quadruple fuel points on Fridays, which keeps my average fill-up to a total cost not seen since 2020. I had planned on attending a concert with a friend that evening, but if I could avoid dawdling in the aisles, I should have plenty of time.

When Friday finally dawned....I had already been awake for a while. I went in to work early because the schedule was a doozy. It would have been a medium amount of work normally, but my supervisor, the only other person who shares my duties, was on vacation, so it was all me. Fine. Then the doctor drops that she wants results an hour earlier than usual because she needs to leave. I tell her I make no promises, but I will do what I can. Then the patients had the audacity to arrive early, which would normally be great, but on this day that means I'm stuck trying to cram a full day of work into about five hours. It was all fine, I had great help, but I was grateful to leave and start my weekend.

I had my list, I had my reusable grocery bags, I rolled into the parking lot of Kroger with the air conditioner blasting (Texas in June is only slightly cooler than the devil's barbecue). I grabbed a grocery cart and began my mission. My objective: acquire $200 of groceries and get out in a reasonable amount of time.

My first stop: non-food items. Though not purchased as often, non-food goods like makeup and toiletries can add up fast. Unfortunately, the household was not short on any of those things. There is one thing, however, that will be quickly used and has a decent price tag: cat food. With two energetic, 10-month-old kittens in the house, an extra supply of cat food will not go to waste. I found the usual brand of kibble and was pleased to see that it was on special. If I buy 3 or more bags, each bag is $2 off. So three bags we into my cart, $15 each with the discount, $45 toward my goal.

I proceeded to the grocery section, acquired all of the items on my list, and looked in the cart. There is no way this is over $200. I opened my couponing app and made a second pass of the store, throwing in items that would keep for a while and were currently discounted. I looked in the cart once more. We're close, but I'm not sure it's over $200 yet. So I made one more pass of the store, roaming the aisles and throwing in anything with a sale tag that I knew I could use. A brick of cheddar cheese here, two boxes of pasta there, a few cans of chickpeas for good measure. I was finally satisfied with the look of my cart and turned toward the self-checkout, grabbing a pack of gum just in case. Honestly, I probably looked slightly crazed, so single-minded was my focus.

Before I began the process of scanning and bagging my loot, I took stock of items around the register just in case I came up short. I was relieved to see a small selection of gift cards that I could use as a safety item. I scanned my items and bagged them, watching the total slowly rise. My bags steadily filled with produce, dry goods, and frozen foods. When the total reached $160 and I still had items to go before my trump card cat food, I smiled like....someone way too involved in their grocery shopping. When I scanned the last bag of cat food, I saw that the total had reached the $260's. But there was one more potential obstacle. That total was before all of the sale prices and digital coupons were applied, and I had a LOT of sale items. I hit "Finish and Pay" and watched the total drop......to $226. I had won. I slapped my coupon on the scanner and saw my final total: $206.86. I tapped my card and received a receipt as long as my arm. At the bottom of the receipt was the total amount that sales and coupons had saved me. 

That's a new record for me. It's the little things in life.

I trotted into the scorching-hot parking lot with my booty and my tale of glory. I shared my tale with my best friend in a most dramatic fashion as we dined on chicken and fries before the concert. I thought that those who read my blog might get a laugh out of it. I'm not going on Extreme Couponing any time soon, but just like everyone else, I'm trying to live in a world of growing costs. If I can have a little fun with couponing and managing the spending of my household, so be it. I'm grateful for the jobs that Alex and I have and the blessing of a reasonable amount of financial security. That could all change in a second, so I'll enjoy what I have while I have it. 

Thank you for reading possibly one of the silliest blog posts ever. Have a good day!

1 Year later and I'm Turning Into My Mother

Facebook has informed me that I have been married for exactly one year!

What does it feel like? Not that different, actually. It just feels like the next step down the path that Alex and I have chosen for ourselves. We still make time for each other just like we did when we were dating, and we still hang out with our friends apart from each other.

What has changed the most is the surroundings, honestly. My blog post about my wedding was written in a apartment, this one is written in a house. I wrote about my wedding with the darling cat of my childhood purring next to me, I write this with a pair of kittens sprawled on the other side of the couch, a couple of new lives as we begin a new chapter of our own.

Instead of having to save the top tier, our bakery gave us a free anniversary cake

Home ownership has brough out things about me that I had forgotten about. I remember now how much I loved having a bird feeder to look at, and how I loved identifying the birds (and the squirrels) as they came to snack. I used to do chores in the yard and garden regularly. I haven't used any of that knowledge in years, and here I am, regaling Alex with the proper care of tomato plants. This proves to me that the dreaded fate of the daughter is coming true: I am turning into my mother!

Mother's Day is fast-approaching, so let me tell you about my mother, and why I am turning into her. My mother raised a garden all through my childhood and to this day. Every day, she was happy to see the little plants progress, tending them until they were ready to harvest and enjoy. I remember her calling me to the garden to show me an exceptionally large squash or an oddly-shaped tomato.

As anyone who gardens can attest, no one grows a garden just for themselves, not unless you are deeply passionate about grilled zucchini. If you have a garden you share. My mother was no exception, foisting buckets of zucchini, jars of salsa, and bags of green beans off onto anyone who would take them. We made zucchini bread, scones, and a decadent chocolate zucchini cake that I remember to this day. Even after all of that, we still had extra vegetables. I was given free reign to smush up old cucumbers, zucchini, and tomatoes at my grandparents' cabin, making a huge, mushy mess to dump in the lake.

At the time, I didn't fully appreciate the joys of gardening. It was hot, and the mosquitos found me delicious. It seemed like a lot of work, the kind of work that leaves one sweaty and mud-streaked. But when Alex and I were looking at houses, we were also looking at back yards. When Alex and I looked out the back door of the house that would be ours, I said "This would be great for a garden."

A garden I wanted, and a garden I would have. I dove into research and constructed raised beds to alleviate the problems of the north Texas clay-packed soil. I built the boxes and asked for assistance hauling in mulch and soil. I selected plants and carefully placed them in the beds. And I waited.

Anyone who knows me knows that I like things to happen quickly. If I am given a chore, it's done within hours. If I decide to plan a vacation, I have flights priced out in minutes. If I decide to build a costume, I've already got a plan and I'm brainstorming how to make the character on the screen abide by the laws of physics enough to make a costume possible. But you know what gardening takes? Time. Patience. *Sigh* Sometimes I feel like God played a joke on me, putting a desire to garden in a brain that doesn't like to wait. I've always thought of my mother as a patient person (she raised four kids, if she wasn't patient before, she is now), so like my mother, I was patient, and I found that the waiting wasn't as hard as I thought. I found joy in stomping out to the garden every day to look at the progress. I stared at my little plants, wondering "is that a new leaf? Are they getting taller?"

I marveled at the natural processes so finely tuned by the Creator. I hoped that I had set up the boxes correctly, that the soil would support my fast-growing vegetables. At this point, I am more observer than keeper. My back yard has been blessed with rain every week, meaning I barely have to water, a rarity in this part of the country. I weed and ensure that my plants remain unbothered by pests. And they grow, they do all the work. I call Alex over to show him my first zucchini as it grows seemingly an inch every day, and to ramble about my plan to turn these tiny green tomatoes into salsa when they grow fat and red. Just like my mother used to do to me. I am turning into my mother.

And I get it. I want to share this garden, too. I want to make that rich zucchini cake again, and offer my friends extra tomatoes. I have enjoyed conversing with my mom on the joys of gardening, asking her what kitchen scraps to save for composting, and even giving her tips like using a hose timer for consistent watering.

I'm not sure if my other knew it at the time, but when she was asking me for help picking green beans and explaining how far apart to plant the peas, she was planting another kind of seed. A seed of appreciation for the simple act of growing food. And that appreciation has given me a hobby that yields more than just a fine homemade salsa. As the plants grow, I am working to grow patience. I am appreciating the beauty of life as it erupts from the ground. Humanity has gardened for millennia, and I'm just continuing the tradition. Sounds pretty grand for a back yard, doesn't it?

These pictures were taken eight days apart, it will never cease to amaze me. The zucchini in stores always look so small, i like to let them get a bit bigger. This one will be delicious!

But the big thing that puts a smile on my face today is this: I'm turning into my mother, in a good way. Sure, turning into your mother can be a bad thing, but in this case, it's not so bad. As I send her a picture of my huge zucchini and ask her for the family salsa recipe, I don't mind being a little more "Mom" today.

"Mom! Phineas and Ferb are Being Adorable!"

 So, a couple of weeks ago, Alex and I acquired a pair of kittens. I've posted the story of Puff's adoption on this blog. Now let me tell the story of Puff's little brothers, Phineas and Ferb.

So, getting two cats was my idea. Puff did well as an only cat, she only needed me and she was fine. She didn't really like other cats. But not all cats are so solitary. Especially with owners that work outside the home, a lot of cats do well in pairs or small groups. They have someone to play with when the owners are out. And this way, Alex and I can both have a cat to hold at the same time!

Since Puff passed away, we have desperately wanted cats. It's honestly kind of pathetic. How am I supposed to lay in bed on a Saturday morning without a cat purring on my chest? Who can I talk to when I'm alone in the house? Every time I saw a cat, I zeroed in on it and tried to pet it with a single-minded focus akin to the feline fixation of my childhood (for those who did not know child Kim, my obsession with cats was rather....insane). Getting a cat at age 13 actually made me less obsessed with cats by channeling all the energy into one direction, that of my incredibly spoiled pet. Apparently, that obsession never actually went away, and boy was it surprising to have it rise to the surface again.

Whatever cats do to people, it's contagious. Is it love, or is it toxoplasmosis? Whatever it is, Puff gave it to Alex. He already liked cats when we met, and my little charmer hopped onto his lap and into his heart. He lived without cats for years, but after three years with Puff, he was counting the days until "new cats day" right alongside me. I've ruined him, he's a cat dad forever now. He is particularly fond of black cats because they make him feel like a wizard.

Two cats that are already friends, at least one of them black. A simple order, one that we should be able to find in all of DFW. On the Saturday after New Year's, we set out. We started with the Denton Humane Society, then the local PetSmart. We were surprised at how few paired cats we saw. Orr next stop was a nearby Petco, where I had seen a local organization say they had adoption events.

A corner of the store was filled with cages of cats. Alex and I walked over and saw a cage with two kittens asleep in a pile, one black and one unmistakably Siamese. The volunteer opened the door and invited us to pet them. When Alex put his hand in the cage, the little black one wrapped his little paw around Alex's finger and he was gone. That little pile of black fur had stolen his heart.

We held them, and the Siamese purred up a storm in my arms. We learned that though they are not brothers, they are best friends and would do well adopted together. We were told that they were sociable, playful, and cuddly, a great match for us. The black one was named Gravy beacuse he had been found in a tiny cage in a trailer park being fed table scraps. The Siamese was named Champagne Problems after the Taylor Swift song. We signed the papers and they were ours.

"Mom, you have two hands. One for each kitty. Now pet us!" (Look at their little Valentine's Day collars)

Riding passenger with a box of kittens on your lap is possibly one of the best feelings in the world. They stuck their little paws out the holes in the side, asking for attention. I told them that they were going to a new home with toys, treats, and lots of love.

We put the box in a bathroom with a litterbox and opened it. The Siamese leapt out immediately, wanting to explore. The black cat decided to hide. We intended to leave them in there fora few hours, butthe siamese insisted upon inspecting the entire house. There were things to be sniffed! By evening, he was playing with us in the living room, totally comfortable in the new space.

His adoptive brother took his time. He spent a few days hiding under the bed, only coming out if i coaxed him or put a food bowl next to the bed. Slowly but surely, i lured him with a toy down the hall and into the dining area, where he foumd food and water. When he decided that the living room was a good place, the siamese, excited to finally have someone to play with, instigated the first of many wrestling matches.

We knew that these boys needed new names for their forever home. They were a pair, so they needed a pair of names. Coffee and Bagel? Cookies and Cream? Pinky and The Brain? We bounced names back and forth until we found a set that just felt right.

They are Phineas and Ferb, the main characters of a cartoon by the same name. Ifyouare not familiar eith it, I highly recommend at least looking up some clips. It's about two boys who get into wild adventures in their back yard. Phineas is the ringleader and the more talkative, and Ferb famously says one line per episode. It's one of those kids cartoons that adults also enjoy for its creativity and music, so Alex and I are both fans. The siamese is into everything and likes to talk in his little kitten squeak, so he's Phineas. The black kitty is a bit more shy, but very affectionate and nice, so he's Ferb. The boys in the show are also step-brothers, so it's even more fitting for our brothers from another mother!

No one is alone with these bots in the house. Ferb sits on Alex when he plays video games, and Phineas likes to watch me cook from the kitchen stool. They follow me around the house in the morning and sleep piled around me at night.

I'm so glad we have our sweet boys. Their big sister Puff...would probably not be a fan since she didn't like other cats much. But they are good successors, and I'll be sharing their antics for years to come. The house is a home once again.

Have a great day, and pet an animal if you get a chance!

My 2024 Challenge

Okay, before we get into my 2024 challenge, let's review the last year. Because 2023 was quite a year for me, and I feel like I should give the year its due.

This is one of my favorite light displays in my neighborhood. Peanuts Christmas has a special place in my heart.

I began the year an engaged woman with one living grandparent and one cat, living in an apartment. All of those things changed. First, my grandmother passed away, meaning that all of my grandparents were present at my wedding, but only in spirit. I gained a wonderful husband to be my partner in this all-around weird experience called life. My new husband and I went to Switzerland on our honeymoon. Switzerland! It's still kind of amazing to say it. We were able to buy a home together, which neither of us had anticipated. Then, after we had moved into out new house, my cat, my dear Puff, passed away. So much has changed. Not necessarily for better or for worse, just different. Just life doing life things. Time passing as it should. We all learn what we can through the seasons and take life as it comes.

In 2024 I will turn 30, and that doesn't scare me one bit. A lot of people my age are afraid of it, but I guess I just wasn't born with that fear. I'd rather grow old than the alternative, so I'll just be a cool old person. But will I also help to throw overdramatic "funerals for my 20's" for all of my friends and probably myself? Of course! Will there also be cakes made with black cocoa powder decorated with snarky phrases? What do you take me for?

In 2024, I resolve to get a pair of cats. *whispering from off-stage* I have been told that this does not count as a resolution. Alex and I are getting cats anyway. Not only for our own companionship, but because I currently cannot be near an animal and not try to pet it. It's going to get dangerous with the local wildlife if I don't get some kind of furry creature into my home real soon here. The little furballs will be all over my social media, so be on the lookout in the coming days.

So, on to my challenge for 2024. This idea came into my head when I was helping my mother bake a pumpkin pie. She uses the tried-and true Libby's pumpkin pie recipe from the back of the can of pumpkin. I was looking at the recipe card, then I looked at the can of pumpkin, which was another brand. I noticed that the recipe was different. And I started thinking about all of those classic back-of-the-box recipes that so many homemakers have had as staples through the decades. The most well-known of these is the Toll House chocolate chip cookies. It feels like cheating, but it really is a great chocolate chip cookie recipe. I guarantee someone you know had a "special cookie recipe" that is just the Toll House recipe. It got me thinking: What other recipe gems are hiding on containers in my kitchen?

So, my fun little challenge for 2024 is to cook my way through the recipes that are already in my kitchen. I took a few minutes on January 1st to turn around every bottle, box, canister, and bag I could find in search of recipes. I took pictures of all of them and I intent to make them. There may be a really good recipe that I've been ignoring for years! From the Clabber Girl baking powder biscuits to the Grandma molasses barbecue sauce, the only ones I passed over are ones I know I won't like. If you want to know if the Panko coconut shrimp is any good, you're going to have to make it yourself, I don't like coconut.

Is it a resolution? Eh, not really, but resolutions have never been my thing anyway. I'll post my little pilgrimage through my cupboards on Facebook, so enjoy my results. Maybe I'll find a new favorite to keep on the recipe rotation!

I hope you are getting your new year off to a great start and that you have a good day in general. With any luck, my next post will be about new kitties. 

Here's to 2024!