Oscar's Awesome

"Oscar has a habit of curling up next to patients at the home in Providence, Rhode Island, in their final hours.

According to the author of a study in the New England Journal of Medicine, the two-year-old cat has been observed to be correct in 25 cases so far.

Staff now alert the families of residents when he sits down next to their ailing loved one.

Oscar was adopted as a kitten at Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Centre.

The cat is said to do his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses at the home, but is not generally friendly to patients.

Although most families are grateful for the warning Oscar seems to provide, some relatives ask that the pet be taken away while they say their last goodbyes to their loved ones.

When put outside the room, Oscar is said to pace up and down meowing in protest.

Thomas Graves, a feline expert from the University of Illinois, told the BBC: "Cats often can sense when their owners are sick or when another animal is sick.

"They can sense when the weather will change, they're famous for being sensitive to premonitions of earthquakes."

A doctor who treats patients at the home said she believed there was probably a biochemical explanation, rather than the cat being psychic. "


I wonder if Mr. Darcy can do this? Oscar kinda looks like Darcy...but Darcy curls up next to me pretty much every night. His death'dar cannot be trusted.

Mr. Darcy is a beauty king!

He won second place in a pet photo contest at my organization. What a looker he is! It got me...er....him...a Target gift card!

100 Things About Me

1. I have a cat named Mr. Darcy – it’s from the book, Pride and Prejudice, which is amazing. Read it, love it, and if you’re going to watch the movie…I am under the distinct impression that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are portrayed more accurately in the A&E version.

2. My favorite time is 12:34.

3. My favorite color can change daily. More often than not, it is blue.

4. I paint but I do not hold myself out to be a painter.

5. My family had a pool when I was growing up. It was pretty much the most amazing thing ever. But I always had to play by myself since I’m an only child.

6. I’m creative. Sometimes. They say that only children are more creative…because we have to be. Hopefully, this reins true for me since I work in Marketing.

7. I went in the ocean for the first time three years ago. I mean, I’ve put my feet in before…but I got neck deep. I almost peed myself. Luckily, I would have been in the ocean.

8. Going with that, I am deathly afraid of things I can’t see. The thing in the dark, creatures in the sea/creek/lake, the future….

9. It frustrates me that a lot of my food goes to waste because companies package things for families of 20. I’m a little person, I don’t eat much and I live alone. These things that all work against me when I try to not waste precious food.

10. Atrocious grammar errors irritate me.

11. Overly sensitive people do, too.

12. I had a pre-cancerous mole removed off my back and it left a pretty cool scar. You can read the poem here.

13. I was born almost a month late. The scheduled date was 4/1 and I wasn’t born until 4/30. Which also means that my birthday is coming up and that you haven’t missed your opportunity to send me your well wishes.

14. For my 14^th birthday, I got a curling iron and was told that we would be moving from Montgomery, AL to Nashville, TN.

15. My favorite number is anything that has a five in it. So, I really like the number 55,555,555 – it’s pretty much the best number ever.

16. I love to read but since I started grad school I haven’t had much of a chance to read anything for pleasure.

17. I’m getting my Master’s in Public Policy with an emphasis in Education Policy.

18. I want to move from Nashville when I graduate. I’m thinking Seattle at the moment. Thoughts? I’ve never been there…it’s kinda an off-the-cuff decision.

19. I love hiking but have never been camping because wild animals scare me. Unless of course, you count the times I slept in a tent in my backyard.

20. I graduated college on Friday the 13^th.

21. I got on birth control once and it made me so depressed that I stopped eating and lost like 20 pounds. It was awesome because I bought all of these new clothes. On the other hand, I was too depressed to go anywhere…so I never wore them out anywhere.

22. I have really crappy eyesight and am pretty much blind without my corrective lenses.

23. I’m short. 5 foot 2 to be exact.

24. My grandma used to read me The Giving Tree every time I saw her. I can’t even see the book cover now without crying.

25. I like red wine. Fairly dry and not too sweet. Recommendations?

26. Jack Vettriano is an amazingly talented artist. Get to know his work. You’ll love it!

27. Dale Chihuly is a freakin’ amazing glass blower and he’s from Seattle. He’s inspired by the water and so he creates his future designs while meditating naked in the bathtub.

28. I really want to learn photography…

29. Egypt is somewhere I’ve always wanted to go. I’d love to see the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx.

30. I get really claustrophobic in crowds…or when people stand really close. I just have to be able to see a clear and easily accessible exit…otherwise I get clammy, sweaty and nauseous.

31. I’m a great listener.

32. My favorite flowers are lilies. I like tulips too…but lilies are my fav.

33. Peanut butter is by far the world’s most perfect food.

34. I love playing board games. Cranium trumps all.

35. I sang at Carnegie Hall. Yeah, that’s right.

36. I also really want to go to Ireland and Sweden. That’s where my grandparents’ parents were from.

37. I was supposed to be a boy. My dad got to name me if I was a boy and my mom got to name me if I was a girl. Thank God, I was a girl because my dad had chosen Ezekiel. He thought it would be cool to call me Zeke. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

38. I don’t really like to wear patterned things…unless it’s polka dots. I love polka dots.

39. I had braces for four and a half years. I was a heinous mess. I have burned all the evidence of that dark time in my history.

40. I sleep with a security blanket that I’ve had since I was three.

41. I like the smell of freshly tilled fields, soap and the air in the morning.

42. I hate bike riding. Unless it’s on the beach in Hilton Head. That was pretty sweet.

43. I’ve driven to almost all the contiguous states.

44. I’m somewhat of a health nut.

45. I count on my fingers.

46. I laugh at inappropriate things.

47. We will not get along if you can’t laugh at the stupid things you do…or you take yourself too seriously.

48. I like my eggs cooked over medium.

49. My favorite bar beverage is a vodka tonic.

50. I like salsa on pretty much everything.

51. People who say “could care less” bother me. It’s “couldn’t care less.” It’s ridiculous to say that you could care less about something.

52. I hate giving speeches. HATE.

53. I think facial scruff is hot.

54. When I’m nervous or stressed, I bite all my nails off…except my thumb nails…they’re really strong. Dang them and their resiliency!

55. I was only allowed to watch reruns when I was growing up. Like the Patty Duke Show, the Mary Tyler Moore Show, the Dike van Dyke Show, Dragnet, and I Love Lucy. Awesomeness.

56. I don’t sit on public toilet seats.

57. I fit the description of my astrological sign fairly well.

58. It takes me a long time to love someone, but when I do, I will love them forever.

59. I save my old toothbrushes and use them for use as cleaning agents.

60. I am not a neat freak nor am I organized…but I know where everything is.

61. I subscribe to three magazines – Glamour, In Style and Marie Claire.

62. It always makes me feel better to drive with all the windows down and blast music in my car.

63. I’m a music snob. And I generally fall out of love with a band when they become famous.

64. I have a love/hate relationship with being from Alabama.

65. My mom was 35 when I was born.

66. I’ve had a slew of nicknames throughout the years – Gidget, Sash, Cakes, Boog, Pet…and most recently, Pickles.

67. I love to cook. It’s kinda like art.

68. I love semi-formal and formal attire.

69. I like classical music.

70. I’ve always wanted to dance…but never had the guts to do it anywhere but in my condo…alone.

71. I like the way that Scotch Tape smells.

72. I have a pen fetish. I get that from my dad.

73. When I was little, I collected erasers and stickers.

74. My dad and I look almost identical. He’s just a man with grey hair.

75. My dad used to enter me in fishing competitions. I used to win.

76. I don’t like the texture of pears or guacamole.

77. I got the chicken pox when I was in 8^th grade…well past the time when you are supposed to get them. They were everywhere. And by everywhere…I mean…everywhere.

78. I don’t like icing.

79. I always eat breakfast

80. I’m addicted to coffee and I drink it black.

81. The bag of purple Skittles is my favorite.

82. I love dresses and skirts.

83. Spring and Fall are my favorite months.

84. I am a Christian but there are a lot of reasons why calling myself this bothers me.

85. I love Google Reader!

86. I love BBQ ribs…but I don’t eat them in public.

87. I have worked a variety of jobs. I worked at Border’s as a barista, Bread and Company, American Eagle Outfitters, the Nature Company, a nanny, Hecht’s, Macaroni Grill, Merchant’s, and AristoMedia as a music industry publicity/advertising intern.

88. I am a few credits shy of having an Art History minor.

89. I play volleyball at Hooter’s.

90. I will trust you implicitly until you give me a reason not to.

91. I’m a horrible liar. My face always looks weird when I lie.

92. I love pickles and olives.

93. Ted’s Montana Grill has an amazing buffalo burger.

94. I took ballet, tap, jazz, baton, flute and vocal lessons, and soccer growing up.

95. I love broccoli…nature’s broom.

96. I got 2^nd degree burns down my arm from my oven while cooking popcorn shrimp and tater tots last year.

97. It’s hard for me to say “no” to my friends.

98. If I don’t eat, I get cranky.

99. I like attention...but not all the time.

100. Thank, God. Umm…think of something…um….I love black and white photos, Audrey Hepburn, old-fashioned values (some), hand sanitizer, and the color red. See…my favorite color changed while I was doing this.

My birthday is coming up...

You can get me this...

I think it is perfectly clear that I have a slight obsession with Jane Auten's Pride and Prejudice. I watched the A & E movie with my mom when I was in 8th grade, suffering from the chicken pox. And when I got into my sophomore year of high school, I read the actual book...and was hooked.

I mean, my awesome cat is named after the book's main man - Mr. Darcy.

So, you can believe I was ecstatic when I read the article from the NYT about this series of books that is out to help the reader understand the life and times Austen (and others) wrote in. The book helps explain what was actually meant by certain things mentioned.

Who knew that the reason Lydia kept saying "fun" was because that was that time's "awesome"? It gives it a whole new life!

I can't wait!

Who took off my shirt??

This morning I woke up without my shirt on. I went to sleep with one. Got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water...still wearing one.

But awoke this morning without one.

Who is responsible??

Sure, I have had my bouts with sleep walking but that was a long time ago. I haven't done this in years. Seriously! You can ask Mr. Darcy. He'll vouch for me.

Also, let it be known that I have never had an incidence of sleep stripping. Never.

So, I'll ask nicely once more. Who is responsible for my indecent exposure??

That is all.

More pictures!

Mr. Darcy in a track jacket!

The Debut!!

Here's to the joy of Christmas!

I came home Friday night, content to put on my lounge pants, crank up the holiday jazz mix I bought last year, burn the green variety of holiday candle (you know – smells like pine), and finish decorating for Christmas. Abi and I went to see Stranger Than Fiction and I thought it was creative and morosely funny. It turned out to be more dark comedy than I had originally expected.

So, I got home. Turned the Christmas tree lights on. Lit my candles. I made my way into my bedroom to put on my pink Victoria’s Secret lounge pants. These are great pants…but you can wear them for a short period of time and they start to bag in the butt and the knees. Even though I live alone, I still like to be presentable, you know…for Mr. Darcy. But these were the pants that were calling for me the loudest from their wooden prison, deep within my lingerie chest.

I went back into the kitchen/dining/living room to begin and end the decoration for Christmas 2006.

I saw him then.

A little grey and white fuzzy head sticking out of my Parisian’s handle bag from last night’s shopping extravaganza. Mr. Darcy leapt at me from his clever hiding place, expecting to scare me. Cats are funny like that. Have you noticed that? Their thinking is, “If I can’t see you, you must not be able to see me. Therefore, I will avert one eye while keeping the other in plain site.”

He dives back into the bag making as much commotion as entirely possible. We’re playing a game, he and I. The interesting thing is that he couldn’t care less whether I was playing along or not.

I wish life were this simple. Joy from a bag. I mean, I get joy from bags now…but it’s because they are filled with the wondrous gifts that I have purchased.

When I was little, I would play in my parents’ camcorder bag…that’s right, remember those? When the camcorders were so large, they had to be propped up on shoulders and stored in what looked like a carry-on luggage baggage. I would get in there, lay as flat and as still as possible and wait for people to start looking for me.

“Bill, where’s Sarah? Have you seen Sarah? Where could she be? This isn’t like her.”

I’d lay there for as long as I possibly could, dying to let everyone in on my secret.

Looking back on it, I am pretty sure my parents knew where I was the entire time. They would just play along. Like I do with Darcy.

But I want to be on the other side of the surprise, the tom foolery, again. I want to get enjoyment out of simple things. I think it is important, especially in this holiday season, to look at the world around us as though we have the eyes of a child and the innocence of youth.

When was the last time that you couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve? I’d lie awake trying to remember all the things I had included in my letter to Santa at the North Pole. I remember straining so hard to hear Santa and his reindeer arrive at my house but eventually, exhaustion would take over and I would fall asleep.

My mom would cook constantly throughout the Christmas season. Gingerbread houses, peppermint bark, chocolate covered pretzels, red velvet cake, sugar cookies made in holiday shapes (but half a batch with no icing…because I don’t like icing). You name it, she made it. Christmas morning I was always instructed to remain upstairs while my parents “looked at what Santa brought me...to make sure it was right.” This seemed plausible. How nice of them! Then, they’d give me the queue and off I would go, dashing down the stairs to see what treasures were beyond the banister. I’m told a story, that one particular Christmas, I cried. I cried, proclaiming that Santa had given me too much. Obviously, there had been a mistake – he had given me someone else’s presents as well as my own! Apparently, it took my parents a while to calm me down that morning. Probably not the reaction they had expected.

I can’t wait to go through all of these things with my future children. To see the wonderment and joy they have as they experience everything for the first time. Don’t you wish that we could all keep that? Let’s all try to celebrate Christmas this year with these things in mind.

Here’s to the excitement of Christmas.

...Just Because

I realize that I’m getting older and I’m okay with that. I just don’t get bent out of shape about stuff like that. Because really, life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but rather by the moments that take your, right?

Well, I’ve got a new appreciation for the older ladies and gents in my life now. The ones who take off a few years when someone asks their age. The ones who see a fellow mid-lifer and inquire softly, under their breath to me, “Do I look younger than her?”

I appreciate these people now…I appreciate and understand because I have watched the Bachelor. I remember when this show first came on TV so many years ago and I thought the ladies were so much older…and so much wiser and cooler. And now, staring at myself from the other side of the glass, I think… “I’m older than these ladies (though not by much)…and I’m certainly not cooler…wiser, yes…yes, I will give myself that.”

These ladies are my age if not younger and they are vying for this prince’s affections for him to fall in love with and marry them. Ladies, doesn’t this seem a little belittling? Demeaning? Behind the times, even? I certainly think it does.

But I’m not going to lie to you. I have watched and been entertained by two, maybe three episodes. What’s really entertaining though, is seeing the commercials and then the show…because they are always totally different.

Anyway, sorry. Back to what I was writing about.

I had a semi-out-of-body experience the other morning. I was driving to work. Listening to talk radio. Drinking a coffee with one hand and driving with the other. I had on my “big girl” clothes – a black pencil skirt, button down shirt and my fancy designer, favorite stilettos. It was then that I saw myself as I used to see people like me when I was 12 or 16 or 21…

She’s old.

I do old things. I’m older. I own my home, I own my car, I have a cat that is well nourished and plants that thrive. I work full-time, M-F, 8-5 and only miss work when I absolutely have to. I worry about retirement and savings and the future. And I am in grad school…which more often times than not makes me feel older too.

And I date. And when you date at this age, people feel better if they think you are serious about the person whom you are dating. For some reason, they need to know that you see a future…because otherwise…they think you are wasting your time. Or that your eggs are going to go bad. Or that I’m “not getting any younger.”

But then I think… “Slow down there! I’m only 24.” I mean, I know time flies at this age…but I just need a brake. I need a brake from the pressures of going older. I need to be young again. To take playtime seriously. To feel the cold, wet grass underneath my feet. To take the time to smell the sweet air of morning…because that is my favorite time of day. To wake up early and go to bed late…just because. To not worry about working out and staying fit. And eating right. And doing the most mature thing.

I want to throw a temper tantrum. Laugh until I physically can’t laugh anymore because my sides are streaming out in pain. I want to sneak into movies in the middle of the afternoon

And most of all I want to remember everyday how fast time goes…and that I am not guaranteed one more minute. And to act like a kid every once in a while…just because.

Too much time on my hands...

Perhaps...

Pictures - Mr. Darcy's bath and Saturday night

Pictures as promised. Enjoy.

Mr. Darcy oh so comfortable before his bath. Poor thing...he needed one bad, though.

Peeking out of a towel...

Hahaha - Ahh, um drying off in a towel after the bath. He always acts paralyzed...
Maybe the towel is just too tight...

Hiding under the kitchen table after his bath.

Abi and me.

Again.

Billy and me.

Abi and Billy.

Presents

I haven’t written much about Mr. Darcy, my beloved Maine Coon, but here is a story to appease your ever-parched appetites.

Mr. Darcy came to me last year unexpectedly from a no-kill shelter in town. Since I adopted him when he was still so young, he is understandably needy. Yes, needy is the word that I’m looking for. Demanding would also work as well.

If it weren’t for his cute persona, I’m telling you, he wouldn’t be worth it. I can hear your mouths all dropping to the floor right now. Well, pick them up. I said that if he weren’t so darn cute, he wouldn’t be worth it…but lucky for him, his is!

He claws at the walls all the time, most often when there is nothing there. In order for you to fully appreciate the noise he makes, imagine ten long and pointed nails scratching down a chalkboard. Yeah, that’s a nice sound isn’t it?! Thought so. Especially at 3:00 AM. That’s when I really love the noise. I used to go investigate, thinking that there must be some sort of insect fluttering about, annoying him to no end. But no, there’s nothing. Just the paint and the dry wall. Not even a shadow! Nothing.

He likes to play in the bathtub, which I am sure is in direct correlation to the reason that I buy Drano every couple of months.

He also can’t stand closed doors. And by can’t stand closed doors, I mean that he has panic attacks trying to get himself in or out. The scenario starts off by him gently meowing. “Mom? You back there?” Then it progresses to a more desperate meow. “Mom?! Oh my God! Mom?! Are you behind there?!” Then it get suicidal. He bangs his body/head up against the door over and over again. Thud! Thud! Thud! I’m pretty sure that he thinks I have disappeared when the door closes. Which, I guess, technically, I do. Honestly, I thought that he would have grown out of this by now…being that for ten months, I have consistently come back from behind the scary closed doors.

This leads me to this morning. For once, I wanted to get a shower and have the bathroom get steamy and warm. But, this was not to be. I fed Darcy to get his mind off following me around and tripping me up along my morning routine. I thought that if he was occupied, his attention successfully grabbed, he wouldn’t get in my way, but apparently the tuna/salmon/whatever fish morsels didn’t keep his attention long enough. I closed the door to the bathroom and distinctly remember the door clicking into place. Once in the shower, once I was nice and wet and not willing to get out, I heard Darcy going about his normal psychotic routine but ignored it thinking that it would stop in a bit. To my surprise, it actually did stop. I was shocked.

I continued on with my bathing. Wash the face first, then the body, next wash the hair, and then shave the legs nice and smooth. Nothing. No sound. Not a peep. Then I think maybe he’s dying out there and I have to save him. Like, maybe he’s choking! Oh no! What a bad mom I am! I turn off the water quickly, grab a towel and hastily push back the curtain. And there he is. Laying on the floor next to the toilet. Where he always is when I’m in the shower. And there’s the door. Pushed open. How in the world was he, sans opposable thumbs, able to open that door?!

He gets up and starts to lick the water off my legs. The exact water that I haven’t been able to dry off because I thought Darcy was dead/dying. It was then that I see it.

Something brown and circular laying just beyond the cracked door.

Peering at me. Leering at me. Sneering at me.

Surely not. It can’t be.

I move closer. Oh yes, it surely can be. It’s poop. A nice little piece of poop. Laying outside the door like a morning present. Saying, “Mom, you’re all nice and clean. Thanks for breakfast! I got you something...a present. I like to call it ‘a little piece’ of me.”

I got some toilet paper and pick it up to flush it down the toilet. I can’t be mad at him. I mean, I knew better, didn’t I? I knew that closed doors scared Darcy.

I guess I just didn’t know they scared the crap out of him…

Collecting Freckles

Saturday morning. I wake up refreshed, rejuvenated and sans sleep marks. Slowly, ever so slowly, I stretch the muscles that have been lying dormant for the last few glorious hours.

Mr. Darcy lunges at the moving objects under the sheets that have sparked his curiosity. Like the natural predator that he is, he has been awake for hours, just waiting. Waiting for something to move.

I think about the day and what I have in store. A small smile of satisfaction sweeps across my face. There is so much to do. The piles of laundry on the floor need to be washed. The mounds of clothes on the floor need to be folded and hung. Counters cleaned. Dishes washed. Floors vacuumed.

But that’s not why I’m smiling.

“Why,” you ask, “are you smiling then?”

Secretly, I know none of those things will be done. Not today. Today is devoted to one thing.

Collecting freckles.

I make my way to the edge of the bed, sit up and stretch again. Sometimes, you just can’t stretch enough.

As I walk to the closet, I narrowly miss an altercation with the lion sitting on a pile of dresses. He looks up, peeved at the near death experience, squints his eyes, pins back his ears. The lion is hungry. Not to be the meal of choice, I divert my attentions to the kitchen instead.

Darcy races me there. He wins every time.

Back to the closet. My bathing suit is on the floor, where the rest of my closet is. Pick it up. Put it on. Tie it securely. Double knots.

Sunscreen is key. SPF 30. SPF 45 for the face and neck. No skin cancer here. Just freckles.

I get my bag together.

Magazine? Check.
Book? Check.
Water? Check.
Towel? Check.

I tie my hair back with a scarf. There’s no need to be fancy.

Walking out the door, I send my love to the little lion stalking me from behind the couch. I make my way to the pool.

Sitting in my lounge chair, I close my eyes and imagine the wind blowing my hair smells like salt. The moisture in the air is hung heavy with sea spray. I can hear the ocean roar when a car passes. When a little boy laughs, I imagine it’s his first time to the ocean and he has been knocked to his knees by an incoming wave. In my daydream, he gets up, squealing excitedly, and runs up to the arms of his dad who is further away from the water’s edge.

Like an outdoor sauna, I can feel my body relaxing with the heat. The ocean looks so inviting from here by the shore.

I dive in. Cool water shocking my body’s senses. Come up. Catch my breath. Avoid the large pink float heading my way. It was a close call. I get out. Walk back over to my lounge chair…try to decide whether it’s time to lay on my stomach. Saturday’s big decision.

The magazine titles call to me:

“His Body (A User’s Manual)”

“7 Ways to Outsmart a Rapist”

“Feel Sexier Naked – 4 Steps to Total Body Confidence”

“Don’t Bend Over Backward for Him”

Sure, nothing like reading informative and useful literature. I open up my girl-porn and learn ways to tantalize men and the shocking confessions of women whose men are beyond hooked to you know what from behind. I can feel myself growing more and more intelligent as the pages turn. I also have a strange desire to purchase a Louis Vuitton bag.

Subliminal propaganda at its best.

Saturday at its best.

Collecting freckles at its best.

My furry son

I have yet to share pictures of my baby! I rescued Mr. Darcy (named after a character in my favorite Jane Austin book), nearly on the verge of death, in November of last year from an animal shelter.

The lady that dropped him off at the shelter had dropped three other kittens off 3 days prior and they had all since been adopted. While holding out a malnourished kitten on her next visit, she told the shelter that she had thought there were four when she came in previously and stated that she found this one hiding in her closet. He hadn't been fed the entire time.

When I saw him in his cage, he was being tormented by these other black kittens. They were just trying to get him to play, but he was so sickly that their playing was killing him.

When I told the vet tech that I was considering adopting him, she and the vet advised me against it, stating that they were basically waiting for him to die. That there was nothing they could do. When she said that, I was incensed. I said that I wanted to adopt him anyway and to my amazement the vet tech said "Well, you know once you adopted him, we can't return your money." Honestly, that really wasn't a concern at the time.

I wasn't prepared to bring a kitten home that day so I had to go by PetSmart that night with Darcy in my arms, wrapped in a hand towel, and buy everything he needed. He slept for days after I brought him home and he wouldn't come out of his carrier. I kept watching his stomach to make sure he was still breathing. Since he had not been weaned, Mr. Darcy didn't know how to eat and I had to mush up water and food so that he could lick it up. Gradually, I implemented hard food into the mush.

This is Mr. Darcy when I first adopted him. I was so sad when I had to go to work - I didn't want to leave him. Every time, I thought I would come back home and he would have passed away. That collar that he has on is the extra small size and it could fit easily over his head. (It's way to small now, Darcy got fat quick)

Darcy playing on the floor.


So freakin' cute! Darcy's First Christmas.


Trying to sleep... but Mom won't stop taking pictures!



Darcy's 10 pounds now...and only 8 months. He's part Maine Coon so he should get really big!

Okay - enough gushing about him, I suppose. Seriously, this little feline is fabulous. Well, he's fabulous and annoying...all at the same time. Like when he claws on my furniture...or the walls...or the floor. Ohh but then I am a complete pushover when he snuggles up to me in the middle of the night...right up against my back...or on my head.

It's worth the lack of sleep.