Fancy buts. (butts)

I am supposed to make a clarification.  This picture from the last post?

That ominous shadow above my left ankle?  I am here to tell you that that is in fact NOT a stain.  It is a shadow from when Jesse took the picture.  He saw my post and didn't want you all to think we live like animals, what with knitting garments and leaking on the couch.

Last night Jesse and I drove around and came across this adorable park with lots of fake grass.

Awww, see the hand holding?  Okay, what ethnicity are we?  It's difficult, I know.  But seriously, WHERE CAN I GET GRASS LIKE THIS.  Do you have to maintain it?  Maintain fake grass?  I may not be interested anymore.

Me:  "Look at all the geese!  They all look so calm!"

Jesse:  "You're kidding me, right?"

Me: "What?"

Jesse:  "Those are all fake."

Me:  "Go pretend to feed one."

Does someone in this photo think that someone in this photo is hilarious?  Oh, but the guy playing golf didn't?  THAT'S what all that fake grass was about?  Sorry.  Thanks for shooting a small hard golf ball towards me just because I was in your way.

This was my victory stance.  I made Jesse take so many pictures of me doing this that I would feel it a waste if I didn't post one.  Sorry.

When we got home from the park, we had one of those "married people" boring discussions in the car.  You know the kind, the kind where "no, you started saying something important and if you don't finish it right now we'll never discuss it inside."  Sometimes Jesse makes me act like an adult.  What is up with him?  But anyway, who got impatient with us?

And who still gets excited when the cat she's owned since she was 8 shows her attention?  Who should stop talking in third person?  Is this third person?  Or is it just what the literary majors call not interesting?

Oh how I love Cinnamon's fuzzy butt.  You know his butt hole never shows up in pictures?  I know that's not something most people would appreciate, but I am not most people.

 Suki's butt on the other hand?  Not as modest.

Someone say Suki butt?  Does this cat ever walk anywhere?  It's like I pick her up and put her someplace new to go into a coma.

Oh, that's right!  The father of twelvedaysold, more like, twentyonethousandninehundreddaysold (sorry, Dad) is celebrating his birthday today!

Happy birthday, Dad!

That's how he wants you to think he looks.  When in reality, he looks like this:

Her name was Cobra.

I finished those socks!

And I am loving how thin they make my ankles look in photos.  Thank you, socks.  You're alright.  Is alright a real word?  Should it be all right?  June?

Suki pulled me aside the other day and told me that Cinnamon has been getting too much exposure on the blog, and that she has been getting the shaft.  Where she learned the word "shaft" I have no idea.  I, of course, immediately turned on the defense and said to her, "Well, you're the one not posing for pictures!  Hold still when I pull out the camera!  At least until I figure out how to change the shutter speed!"

We settled down, obviously, as I am still here with only a few scratches.  Which, dang, Jesse showed me a little "fun" game she likes to play where you put your hands under the covers and she has no idea what it is moving around in there.  Have any of you read the Frog and Toad books?  There's one story where either Frog or Toad (can't remember) is trying to sleep but there are these mysterious bumps towards the bottom of his bed.  But when he looks under the covers, just his feet are down there!  He is so distraught he goes downstairs to sit in his chair with a blanket, but the bumps follow him there too!

It's like that, except Suki LUNGES under the covers with her claws out, immediately pricking the tippy top of my finger and making me a total pansy in front of my husband.

Which, regarding the Frog and Toad books, I loved those books.  Loved them!  They had such cute stories!  But I remember reading the whole "bumps under the cover" thing thinking, come ON!  It's your feet, you moron!  There was also another story where Toad didn't have enough water for tea (I'd ask why he didn't have enough water, but it was a toad making tea so I try not to look into it too much) and he starts thinking sad thoughts to cry enough tears to make tea (which, yuck).  He's thinking about spoons that fall behind the stove and are forgotten forever.  I can't remember the other ones.  I vividly remember trying to make my seven year old self cry over the things he was listing and each one I was like, I could do better than that!  World hunger!  War!  Clay Aiken!

So there she is.  Left and right, she is being cute.  We've had her since October of last year.  Before we had her, she had moved around quite a bit and so she was pretty comfortable from the beginning.  But it wasn't until around the beginning of this month that she actually wants to cuddle.  Like, look at me, pet me, love me.  Before if she lied down on me it was like, NOBODY MOVE!  She wants to cuddle!  It's nice she's finally warmed up though.  I mean, I guess.  Now she's all needy, and not just when she wants the tub to have water in it.

But they're so cute.

Miss J and the moldy sandwich.

Do you watch America's Next Top Model?  If you don't, how do you expect to be fabulous, ever?  You're not smizing!

One of the judges and modeling coaches is Miss J.

One time when I was in Eugene rollin' with my homies, a friend asked me what I thought of Miss J.  And because I can't just answer a question quickly or straightforwardly, I proceeded with a story.

Once when I was in high school and my mom still packed my lunches, I had, uh, disposed of a bagel sandwich she had made me, yet I had not eaten.  I'll get back to that.  The point is, I forgot about it.

I lost something in my room one time (not that uncommon, someday I'll scan the pictures I took of my high school room) and my dad said he could find it.

He got down on his knees.

He reached his arm under the bed.

He pulled out a moldy bagel sandwich still in the zip lock bag.  Dark green mold.

And of course I was just standing there being useless and got to watch with growing horror as he looked at the sandwich and then looked at me.

"What is this?"

I don't remember what my answer was, but "buhhhhh" sounds about right.

"I'm going to make you eat this sandwich."

I was TERRIFIED.  I could get really sick if I ate that sandwich!  That's child abuse!  And you know what else it was?  Ridiculous.  My dad, the guy who made eye glasses out of those plastic Easter eggs and would say things like "oscillate" while "dancing" in the kitchen (he is white, remember, he was not the Pepper of Salt and Pepper) and the most abusing he got with us kids was just getting so utterly frustrated by the stupid things we did that he would bite his tongue (we all have that face down) and rub his forehead until the skin turned raw.  And I thought he was going to force me to eat a moldy sandwich.

He walked out of the room and threw it in the kitchen garbage.

That feeling of terror though?  When I thought my father was Mommie Dearest? (WIIIIRRREEE HANGAAARRSSS = moldy sandwich)

That's how I feel about Miss J.  Terrified, but then also relieved.  I mean, he is fabulous.

Miss J is, I mean.  I guess my dad is also sort of fabulous, but in a hetero kind of way.

It's Mudders Day.

I made a call to my husband the other night while I was at my parent's house BORED OUT OF MY MIND because Jesse was working on homework instead of baking me a delicious dessert or rubbing my feet like he should have been.  I called him up to ask him how it was going and after I hung up my mom immediately chimed in.

Mom:  Why do you talk to him like that?

Katie (Innocent Wife Who Deserves Dessert): Like what?

Mom (in a whispery high voice): "Hi honey..."

Katie (IWWDD): You mean, like...his girlfriend?

Mom:  YES!

Mom has a point.  So, Jesse, how do your other girlfriends talk to you on the phone?  I'm quite curious.  I'm thinking "Hey ho-bag" may be more appropriate considering we passed the whole "we've been married longer than we were dating" five minutes after we got married.

Like, Jesse?  My husband who is now going to art school for animation and dragged me to free comic book day even though I was sick?  I didn't know he liked comics until around a month after we got married.

Now, kids, I'm not here to give you some lecture about engagement time.  Because that's boring.  And I have nothing to say but we knew we wanted to get married fast and we're lucky for finding such a good fit for each other.  Oh, that was boring?  MY BAD.

All of my fan* left me a comment telling me they have "exhausted" my "archives" and I think she may have been acting nice, but you know what?  You're welcome.  I think Blogger just told me I have 22 posts now, so I know that must have been quite the archive delve.

*When I was in high school I was talking to my dad about the lack of black people in Coos Bay and he said "What?  I have lots of black friend."  He was talking about his coworker.  Salt and Pepper, that's what they used to call you guys, right Dad?  Did you guys rap about INSERT INAPPROPRIATE CONTENT like the original Salt and Pepper?

Fyi, I cannot spell inappropriate on my own.

Bored yet?

Just scrolling down for the cat pictures?

A long day working in the yard.

And pictures of Suki outside!  She always moves around too much to get a clear shot.  And I may not be able to figure out how to adjust the shutter speed on the camera.

I call this next one "Come give Poppa a hug."

Here's the cats congregating to talk about how annoying it is I take so many pictures of them.

I know they're sitting there saying, "Come ON!  Have some kids already and give us a break."

And my dad had me take a picture of his angry face.

You know, the grain on this picture actually makes the face timeless.  I'm sure you can tell I have always been very intimidated by this man.  Have I told you the story about the sandwich, excuse me, moldy sandwich my dad found underneath my bed?  Of course I haven't, but I need some material for the next blog post.  All of my fan are waiting with baited breath.

Mom's blog.  Happy Mothers Day!  I'm obviously glad you are my mother, because you were the best.  Mom was the type of mom when if I got in trouble at school (a rare occasion, mind you) she always took my side and then waited until we got in the car to give me a hard time.  That's a good mom.  She also made the best cookies ever and always made sure that my birthday was celebrated by itself with no "joint" Christmas/birthday presents (my birthday is December 26th).

I love you, Mom!

P.S.
Sorry or making you come and unlock the car door for me a zillion times when I was in high school.  I've gotten much better about keeping the keys with me ever since that fateful night in Portland that I had to pay $75 dollars for a locksmith when Mommy and Daddy weren't around anymore.  Sometimes I learn fast, right?  Right?

...

Anybody have a slim jim?

Easy as Shari's pie.

I have a cold. 

I would like to welcome the newest followers to the Twelvedaysold blog!!  Let's hear it for Amy Johnson, writer extraordinaire; Jenna Minkler, (almost typed Cox--she just got married) massage therapist extraordinaire; and Christy, sister extraordinaire.  Christy does not have a website, but she created a profile so she could follow me.  That's a good sister.

Welcome, guys.  Welcome to the most boring site on the internet.  What are you doing here anyway?

As previously stated, I have a cold.  It's been 7 months now since the GREAT SICKNESS OF OCTOBER, so it's not so bad.  I did get it Friday night through Sunday night, so it was thoughtful enough to ruin my entire weekend.  But it was a good knitting weekend, I tell you what. Here's a washcloth:

I'm not going to lie.  I made up my own pattern.  "Pattern" being a loose term here because this is just a washcloth I decreased at the top, but hey can you decrease a washcloth?  THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT. Click for the Craftster post (please comment.  I'm desperate there.  Well, here too).

I also finished this sock!

Some of you older fans of mine may remember me starting this sock a long time ago.  I knit that sock.  And then I knit its mate.  And then I realized there was no way I could wear them comfortably because I apparently made the socks to fit the likes of a deer's leg.  I don't think that was a good enough visual.  What I mean is I made the sock LONG enough for my foot but not WIDE enough.  And I thought first sock denial wouldn't apply to me.

I don't have any new pictures of the cats, but here's one from last year when I was working on crafts during Christmastime and got up for a minute. 

And no I didn't finish the glove.  We're currently not talking to each other.