I got a wonderful package from Norma yesterday. I told her I was going to put it under the tree and open it on Christmas morning but she said to OPEN IT. So I did. In it was a wonderful spa package complete with a special loofah sponge that I cannot wait to use. And a mitten. How I love mittens! It is a mini mitten and it is now hanging on the tree.
The same day I got another mitten package from Carol, although I don’t have a picture of it right now. I’ll take some pics tomorrow in the light. They will make the perfect Dimorphous mittens! And speaking of mittens, Carol is having a mitten knitalong in January, the time to knit for yourself. After a season of giving, it is high time for you to give to yourself. I insist you knit a pair (or two) of mittens for you. (See her December 19th entry to enter the knitalong, entitled Christmas Mode)
In kitty news, there are 2 noteworthy things to talk about today. One is this:
Yes. That is my homemade frosted banana cake that I personally love. I am a bit bad about wrapping things up sometimes. Yeah, THAT won’t happen again. A kitty has been walking through the frosting and I’m not so sure that a nibble or two did not happen. I guess they were only trying to save me some calories!
And? I thought I lost Mitchell today. Lost. A. Cat. That would be bad. I could not find him. Could. Not. Find. A. Cat. You do understand how bad this is, right? Derek and I looked and looked and searched every corner of the house. Then we worried that he might have snuck out around someone’s legs and was wandering around the strange neighborhood in the frigid cold. We searched and we searched some more. I called the absent members of the family to grill them on how they left the house. No stone was left unturned. No pile of laundry unsearched. No closet unransacked. I even looked IN the fridge. In drawers. In the basement. In the dryer. In the washer. Under the sheets. Mitchell was not to be found.
Lost. My. New. Cat.
Around 8 pm (that is 12 hours of searching for those counting) Andy and Derek went upstairs to Bethany’s room and took out the heavy drawers under her bed and there he was. Hiding.
It could have been the traumatizing incident of getting a plastic shopping bag stuck on his leg at 4 am and the frantic running through the house until we caught him and wrestled the bag off of his body.
Poor little guy. Perhaps he needs a kitty psychiatrist?
Mitchell is found.
A Carol for you: Yes, yes, it’s one of my favorites. Why do you ask?