Chalkboard Door Command Center

Way back in July when I was blissfully enjoying my summer vacation, I got a wild hair and decided I was going to turn my garage entrance door into a chalkboard door. We had already been using the door as a catch all since it is conveniently magnetic, so why not make it a write on surface as well?

See what I mean? It was a pretty ho-hum door, but now it pops.

Since I was going to use spray paint, I had to enlist Peanut Head's help to remove the door. We lived without a door for a couple days, which was not a super big deal on account of it was July. We may have had a few more bugs than usual in the house during this time, but they're all dead now, so no biggie.

By the way have you ever used one of these awesome spray paint nozzles? I got this baby many years ago and now I won't paint without it.

And it won't work on these cans, so back to Lowe's it went. Actually, I think I went old school and used my now crippled finger because I needed this color for some other project. Using spray paint without my nozzle turns my index finger into a talon on account of I can't bend it when I'm done. Not fun.

Anyway, ADD much? I made a half-hearted attempt to clean and sand the door first, and then I gave it a coat of primer. My least favorite part of any job is the prep work and I often cheat a bit. I'm so naughty.

I gave the door several coats of the actual chalkboard paint because I wanted good coverage.

Then Peanut Head hung the door back up and there it sat for a couple days before I put the girls to work priming the door with chalk.

Now there's a nasty job which you need lots of chalk for, and preferably young, bendy people who don't mind crawling around on the floor.

In other words, not me.

It's a good thing I have young, bendy people at my disposal.

See, look how much fun they're having.

That's on account of they just got started and it was pretty fun still.

After about five minutes they tried to quit, so I had to offer lots of words of encouragement.

Such as "Suck it up, Princess!"

The fun part was decorating the door. We used Chalk Paint Markers instead of real chalk for this part because ugh, chalk dust.

I like it to look pretty and clean.

It's part of my disease.

I decorated the top because I wanted specific areas for specific things.

And I'm not very bendy anymore, so basically I claimed the sweet spot for decorating.

This is as low as I go. Now for the real art work.

 Of course it's a horse.

I don't ever want to erase this.

Don't be alarmed by the picture of the Demon there.

That's Stinkerbell's work and she's a little . . . off. I don't know how else to put it. There have been times that we've worried about her.

She's just our little weirdo and we love her to pieces.

Wait . . . is that a stick guy with a hatchet over his head? And spurting blood?

Should I be worried? Okay, I might need a number for a mental health professional.

How did I not see these things before now?

And of course the gruesome scene is couched amongst milk and cookies and a horse and a giraffe. Because where there's evil and death, you will always find milk and cookies.

This part really makes me sad though. We lost our sweet cat, Jo-Jo this week.

She is heavy in our hearts and thoughts. I miss her. :(

She was the sweetest cat.

And the cutest kitten.

And she could sleep anywhere.

Her favorite place to sleep was on Gunny Man's bed, crowding him into the wall. She likes to let it all hang out when she sleeps.

Gunny's bed isn't as warm now.

We're all pretty sad without our Jo Jo.

Well, maybe not Peanut Head. He insists he's "not a Cat Person."

Whatever, Peanut Head. That's why all cats love you and gravitate towards you.

He's really the Cat Whisperer, but probably he thinks it's not very manly to be a Cat Whisperer so he has to do it on the down low.

I'm on to him.

I think I'll get him a kitten for Christmas. As a surprise.

Not as a replacement for Jo Jo, though. She was one of a kind. Rest in peace, Jo-Jo-Rooney. We love your sweet little kitty cat heart.

Blue Thunder, The Easter Bunny, and Other Unrelated Tidbits

The girlies came running inside yesterday yelling "MOM! Jo Jo is blue! Jo Jo is blue! Somebody painted Jo Jo blue!"

Well, since I haven't seen any Smurfs since the early eighties, I figured that probably the kids had had too much Easter candy and the sugar was messing with their vision. 

I went outside and sure enough, the cat was blue. Immediately when I saw her I thought-shouted What kind of sicko freak would spray paint a cat?!

Then it quickly dawned on me that the dumb butt cat had rolled her gelatinous body all over Stinkerbell's chalk drawn hopscotch on the sidewalk. She was in loooooooove with that sidewalk chalked hopscotch.

And now she is permanently stained, cannot get it off, blueberry blue. Hence, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I took her picture and promptly bestowed her with a regal name of which she so laughably does not fit--Blue Thunder.

It must be said sort of tongue-in-cheek. Like, ha ha, in your dreams Tom Cruise. You are so not all that that you think you are.

Whoops. I just let one of my movie star peeves out in the open.

Anyway, I do not loathe my cat as I loathe Tom Cruise, but I am a little irritated with her. Any normal cat would have tongue-bathed all that blue off by now, but Jo Jo seems to care less.

Changing the subject, our Easter Bunny messed up again. Yet another Easter we have been woken up by our kids, looking at us with their sad eyes, inquiring "Why didn't the Easter Bunny hide our eggs?"

"What?!!! What the?!!! WHAAAAAT?!!! What time is it?! Go back to bed! You're not even awake! It's a dream! It's too early! If you don't go to bed the Easter Bunny WON'T COME!"

Yes, my kids pretty much accept the fact that by all appearances their mother is crazy. We're all pretty comfortable with it.

Yeah, so anyway, Zoe Bug is more gullible than I am, and she so desperately clings to the magic of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. All the while, Stinkerbell, who is almost two years younger than Zoe, stands next to her rolling her eyes and saying "It's not reeeeeeaaaaal. It's Mom and Daaaaaad. Don't you knoooooooo-ow?"

"No it's not, Anni-KA! If you don't believe, he/she/it won't come! You have to believe!"

"What-EV-er."

That Stinker Dink. You can't get anything by her.

The girls left the room as per my freaking out instructions, and they holed up in their room until a more reasonable hour--not 6:30. I calmly called them into our bedroom to straighten the mess out.

"Yeah. So, we talked to the big EB last night, and he asked us if we could hide the eggs for him. He has too much to do and he needs help, so we're going to hide the eggs for you after you get dressed."

Zoe totally bought it. Stinkerbell just looked at us sideways and humphed. I think she's a little suspicious.

Which brings me to my next completely unrelated topic . . . butter. Can you believe what this kid has done to her French Toast?

Here, let me give you a closer look. I think she put a half a stick of butter on that. Before I stopped to take this picture, I had a little freak out fit. Thank goodness I caught this disaster before The Stink had time to eat it. I was very dramatic in my scoldings.

"You cannot eat that much butter. This will go straight to your bloodstream and stop your heart like a freight train. Do you know what that means?!!!! It means it will kill you! I know butter is yummy, but you cannot eat it like this!" Blah, blah, blah. I said a bunch of other stuff, but I've blacked it all out. I think she got the message.

So, did any of your kids eat so much candy yesterday that it caused them to vomit violently? Zoe Bug holds the Easter Candy Purge title in this house. It's not a title anyone is trying to beat though. Just because we're Tough Love Parents, we asked her "Was it as good coming back up as it was going down?"

Ha, ha. I just know we're going to win the Parent of the Year trophy. Bring it.

Kitten Britches Meets Ginormicat

So, things have been a little hairy around here lately. We got a new kitty. We weren't supposed to get a new kitty, because Mr. Grouchy Pants Peanut Head wouldn't let us have a second cat after our last one bought the farm.

Well, Mr. Grouchy Pants went to Petsmart for dog food one day and he saw a little kitty that he thought was pretty dang cute and that maybe, just maybe he could relax his ridiculous rule for.

Except he didn't tell me about his little slip 'n slide of resolve.

Until the next day. When Petsmart had no kittens available for adoption because they do that on Saturdays, Bonehead. And the teenager that was working had no idea where that kitten came from and wouldn't even entertain a guess.

I walked out of that store trying very hard not to catch on fire.

I was not going to lose this window of opportunity though. I was going to find that cat if it killed Peanut Head. And it might. I called all the Humane Societies, put myself out there like Crazy Cat Lady, looking for this one, special little kitty. This one little kitty that was the only kitty for Mr. Grouchy Pants.

And I did not care how irrational and ridiculous I sounded because I was not letting Mr. Grouchy pants off the hook. We've waited a year and a half for him to relent and let us have a little friend for Jo Jo.

See? Doesn't she look lonely? Well, don't be fooled (like me) because she is now trying very hard not to catch on fire herself. I'll get to that though.

First, I have to tell you about the Great Kitten Hunt of 2009.

So, finally, finally I found the kitty. It turns out she was living in a foster home not a mile from our house. I picked the girlies up from school and we raced over there to get our kitten. We were going to take her home and do the victory dance all up in Mr. Grouchy Pants' face with her.

Well, Kitten Britches, which is not her real name, just an interim name until her personality reveals her true name, was at this foster home. With oh, maybe 100 other kittens. I could be wrong, but there were cats everywhere and they were all moving, so really, who could get an accurate count?

Really, the Foster Cat Lady was really very sweet. She just happens to like cats. A lot.

So, we located our kitten and I filled out the paperwork, but we couldn't take her home for at least a week because she had to have her final round of shots and get spayed as per Humane Society policy. I have no complaints about that. I'm all for spaying and neutering pets, and if the only way they can make sure it gets done is to delay adoption, then I'm all for that.

There are too many animals out there that will never have homes. It makes me sick thinking about it. I don't understand not spaying and neutering pets. It's irresponsible.

Anyway, we found the kitten so I was happy and no longer in danger of catching on fire. A week and a half went by and we got a call from the Foster Cat Lady. The kitten was still too small and she wanted to wait another week for her to get spayed. Okay, I was a little bummed, but it's better to be safe. There were a couple more delays in there because it turns out that Foster Cat Lady is super protective of her 101 kitties. I exercised my patience and finally, finally, we got our kitten on Sunday. Three weeks after Mr. Grouchy Pants had his vision.

Isn't she sweet?

Here comes Jo Jo. I can't wait. She's going to be so excited.

 "What the .  . . ? Oh, no, no, no, no, NO. YOU DID NOT. YOU DID NOT BRING ANOTHER FELINE INTO THIS HOUSE."

Oopsie. Maybe she didn't want a friend. My bad.

Jo Jo promptly left the premises and wouldn't come back until she was ready for her next meal. Fifteen minutes later. But she was ticked. She was ticked and we were not to pet her. Under no circumstances were we to even look at her. All feeding was to be done without eye contact.

What ev. She'll get over it.

Meanwhile, Kitten Britches is thinking about exploring her surroundings.

Still thinking.

Needed a little enticing.

"Oh Yeah. This Kitty Kingdom is awesome! I can live here."

"And this bed, it's not too hard, not too soft, it's juuuuuuuuust right. Smells a little like Fat Cat, but I can overlook that."

"Ahhhhhh."

Stinkerbell is a bit of an animal freak. And she also likes to control things. I have no idea where she gets that from.

Luckily the kitty is very laid back and loves the love.

What the heck? Where did this picture come from?

I wish I was that flexible. Not that I would do that if I was.

Today I saw Jo Jo chillin' on the couch, so I set the kitty down next to her.

"Eeeeew."

"What is that smell?" 

"Girlfriend, you need to spend some time on your grooming. Didn't yo Mama school you?"

"BACK. IT. UP. I don't want to be smellin' yo nasty Kitten Britches on my couch. Git!"

"That's better. I like my alone time."

Our Cat is Moulting

This is our cat, Jo Jo. If you ask our kids, they'll tell you we named her after Jo Jo from Jo Jo's Circus on the Disney Channel.

If you ask Peanut Head, he'll tell you her name is really Jumping Josephine, but we shortened it to Jo Jo.

Either way, she's the best cat we've ever had.

She has the perfect temperament for inconsiderate kids, and she is friendly to everyone.

Even Sammie. She tries to cuddle with Sammie, but it just makes Sammie nervous. Sammie learned early on that cats are unpredictable and moody.

Is that redundant? Unpredictable and moody. Hmmmmm.

Jo Jo likes to sleep in her cat bed, as in the picture above. Since Jo Jo is always in her cat bed, Annika likes to carry her around in it and put her to sleep in strange places.

Like here. The picture above was taken of Jo Jo inside this Princess tent, in her bed, and thrilled about it. Jo Jo actually crawled into the tent on her own, because she knew her bed was in there.

She lets Annika do whatever she wants to her, and she just takes it and thinks she's the luckiest cat in the world. You could say she's an attention starved cat.

Here the girls are making a Poinsettia plate head for Jo Jo, so she could be festive right along with us.

Here Jo Jo is wearing that Poinsettia, but as you can see, not thrilled about it.

We didn't do it just to torture Jo Jo though. She had boo boos on her head from what we thought was a cat fight.

We should have known better though. Jo Jo's a lover, not a fighter.

Alas, Jo Jo didn't keep the festive Poinsettia plate on her head, so we had to graduate her to a higher security level.

The ultra humiliating, yippy dog cone head.

Immediately after we put this on Jo Jo, she was pissed off. And remember, this is a hard cat to irritate.

She wore this cone for more than a week, very unhappily, before we realized she wasn't getting any better.

In fact, she was starting to moult.

Her skin flaked off her head first, accompanied by the fur that was attached to it, and we started calling her Baldilocks.

Then it started flaking off her back and we thought she had dandruff.

Then she got boo boos all around her neck where the cone was rubbing, and we knew it was something more than the remnants of a cat fight.

That was before Christmas, and we were lucky to get a vet appointment on Christmas Eve.

Our Kitty Bits has an auto immune skin disorder of some hard to pronounce, and impossible-to-Google-when-you-can't-even-spell-it, mysterious name.

Oh geez, why do we always get the high maintenance pets?

The good news is that it's treatable and it's not going to break the bank. The vet gave her a steroid shot that'll fix her right up. She'll have to have more shots as the condition flares up again, anywhere from six months to two years from now.

The shot relieved the itching right away, but we were told to keep the cone on her for a couple more days so she wouldn't try to scalp herself again.

Once the cone came off, Jo Jo immediately started bathing herself.

Annika was carrying Jo Jo around the house and Jo Jo was melting out of her arms, unconcerned, and focused on her bathing.

Jo Jo could care less if she was perched on the edge of a cliff, she was going to have a long overdue bath, dang it.

It was so funny to watch.

"My life is in your hands Stinkerbell, I'm havin' a bath."

"What? Haven't you ever seen a cat take a bath before? Give me some privacy for crying out loud. I don't want my picture on your blog. You do not have my permission to post these on your blog."

Ah ahem.

Eeeeeeew. After the first bath, Jo Jo started itching her neck, and fur and skin went flying.

That's when I got out the vacuum cleaner and started following her around the house. I would have vacuumed her, but I think I would have gotten the short end of that stick.

It gives me the willies just looking at these pictures. I'm feeling itchy.

I think I want to dust too.

Nah. False alarm.

Before too long we're going to have one of those hairless cats, I can see it now.

For now we're just calling Girlfriend here Baldilocks.