Vignette Number One
I was in the living room. Maybe dusting. Maybe not. I hear Sweetling in the kitchen saying, "Are you ready for the biggest super-jump of all time?"
"Ready," says an eager Toa of Boy.
Sweetling, "Ok, maybe no more super-jumps."
Vignette Number Two
I was, this time, in the kitchen. Sweetling and Toa of Boy were doing their afternoon lists. I heard this little meowing sound in a sweet little voice that vaguely resembled Sweetling's voice. "Sweetling," I asked, "are you meowing?"
Toa of Boy ran to check to see if Sweetling was, in fact, meowing at us for some reason. (She could have been; this wasn't a far-fetched theory.)
"Mommy!" calls Toa, "There's a cat!"
Ah. Of course. There must be a cat in the backyard that I'm hearing through the open living room windows. I walk into the living room so that Toa can point out the cat, in the backyard, which he has spotted.
No. The cat isn't in my backyard. The cat is in my living room. She walks around meowing plaintively. Brain numb for a moment, I walk past the cat to head downstairs to discover how the cat got in. The cat follows me, mewing. Toa of Boy also follows us. I am the pied piper of a rather unusual procession. Fortunately, my brain clicks back on and I have the presence of mind to close the laundry room door and to send Toa, who has barreled past us, to close my bedroom door.
Sensing a set up, the cat halts on the stairs. I try coaxing her into following me again. Mango, who was on the phone with me when the escapade started, tells me to just pick the cat up. I tell Mango I don't want to pick the cat up. Fleas, poison ivy, and claws are all distinctly possible outcomes of attempting to pick this cat up. Yet, in the end, when the cat has decided perhaps she'll go back upstairs after all, I pick the cat up and carry her through the wide open screen door.
The screen door has, of course, been left wide open by Sweetling, who is outside dutifully checking on her garden plants. (The few veggie plants that the rabbits haven't eaten, that is.)
Now I'm standing on the patio staring at the cat and the cat is standing on the patio staring at me, and mewing. "Maybe she's hungry," I tell Mango.
"Is she thin?" asks Mango.
"No," I say. "She seemed pretty healthy when I was carrying her. Her ears aren't too dirty or buggy. Her coat could use some brushing, but she doesn't look like she's been neglected. Should I feed her? What could I feed her?"
"If you feed her," says Sweetling, "she'll just keep coming back."
Now, during this whole process Sweetling has been oblivious to the fact that the screen door was wide open, despite how many other days I've thrown a little fairy fit about the screen door being left open. Sweetling has been seemingly oblivious to the fact that another human being and a vocal cat has suddenly appeared on the patio with her. But which part of the proceedings does she tune into? The part where she gets to pipe up with the same practical comment the Jedi would make.
(For those of you concerned about the cat, the cat was not hungry or thirsty. I offered both food and water to her. I double checked her ears and did a quick check for fleas, and she seemed ok on both those counts. She just seemed to want attention. She definitely seemed to act like a house cat, and not a stray. I'll keep my eyes out for her and ask the neighbors when I see them to determine if she has a home.)
My Camp GonnaWannaFly plan worked really well for me yesterday. I got a ton of cleaning done, and the living room and entry way looks much better for it. Plus, I still had time for some personal writing, phonics with Toa of Boy, chatting with friends on the phone. All in all, an awesome day. I'm going to try the same format today, focusing on the kitchen. Today is also a grocery shopping day.