Boo!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

last week, that is, or was it the week before that . . .

I know I've been gone a bit but a small explanation:  a little friend, and a little sickness.  Unfortunately the sickness was mine.  Ever since my pregnancy with Joseph I have been a little lactose intolerant.  

*side note:  I used to think that was one of those, how shall we say, uh, made-up illnesses.  Kind of like restless leg syndrome.  When I first saw the commercial for "RLS" I thought--seriously.  Restless Leg Syndrome.  Are you kidding me?!  They have medication for that.  I was indignant.  And yet, I later found myself lying in bed, tired to the bone, but unable to go to sleep for the crazy feeling that if I didn't move my legs the world just might implode on itself,  (a feeling which frankly I have had since childhood).  And after three times of getting drop-dead-pass-out-crazy-wife-of-Mr. Rochester sick each time after eating a bowl of cereal or ice cream I decided there might be some credibility to the lactose issue.

Back to the present, after Joseph was born I was pretty much back to normal but every once in a while when my digestive system is feeling neglected it seizes on a small bowl of ice cream, or in this case, a large mug of milk with warm cookies, to remind me that it will not be shamelessly ignored and taken advantage of.  So, Tuesday morning round about 2 a.m. found me writhing on the wood floor outside the bathroom--because, as I'm sure you know, the floor is low, flat, and cool, things one needs in a state of internal turmoil.  By the time the sun came up I had made it off the floor to the couch but have spent the better part of the week recouping (and the computer screen was just an omen of nausea so I stayed away).  I did, by the way, make it to the voting booth.  With the help of Tara I avoided the 3-5 hour wait and made it in and out in 25 minutes!

The other item of note:  Boo.

This is Boo.  She is now our kitty.  We went to the church Halloween party the Tuesday before and this is what we won.  Yipee for us.  She was there needing a family.  About ten minutes into the trip home from the party some severe panic set in and I almost turned around to drop that kitty right back where she came from.  But I didn't.  I made it home.  And I read Bridget's post and felt much better.  Tara came over, and refused to take the kitty, but did tell me cats are a piece of cake and I would be fine.  It turns out, cat's are a piece of cake and I am fine.  Chris got home late that night to a fun little surprise (but there had been much discussion of a pet and I knew he loved kitties so I felt fine surprising him).  He snuggled right up to Boo, let her nuzzle up in his neck, and ear, and hair.  And in the morning we found out she had fleas.  Tons of them.  And she's too little for flea medicine (1 lb) so I had to give her a flea bath.  And then another.  And then comb the dead fleas off her, and watch the remaining live one jump, yes jump (with that little pinging sound) off her back.  But the little bugger landed in the flea water bowl--ha ha ha, serves you right.  And Chris spent the day crazily itching every invisible prick on his body like someone paranoid they might have fleas--because he was paranoid he might have fleas.  Don't worry, he doesn't.  Or at least he hasn't.  Hasn't had them since he got back from Guatemala.  

So we have Boo.  And she spends her time playing around table legs, pawing at little hands,  

licking faces,

and being William's best friend."We finally have a girl in our family!" he said.

And, of course, we girls held down the fort

while the boys went out to collect candy. And hopefully, in about another week, she will be fully transformed from a barn kitty into a house kitty, and I can relax with the bleach bottle and flea wash.