A Battle of Wills: Fabric Roses vs. "Her"

Grand-dad’s a pretty kewl guy!  He made “her” me a nice bench out of an old bed.  He’s an engineer and designs and makes things.  Really solid things that are so well built, they will most certainly be intact for all nine of my lives, give or take a couple hundred years.  

With the bench complete, the next step was to replace the upholstered headboard.  No problem, right?

Wrong.

Would you believe “she” waited six weeks before giving up on the local upholstery company?!?  Sure, there were phone calls and emails and multiple requests for quotes.  The quote needed was for the headboard and a couple of cushions.  Nothing fancy.  Just cover it with a solid color of something durable and neutral.  Heck, they probably could have covered it with a painter’s drop cloth and used the staple gun.  Certainly, nothing exotic or over the top.  

“She” tried to be patient.  I mean I really think “she” did good.  I can tell you that I sure wouldn’t have waited six weeks for a quote on an anchovy pizza with extra cheese. So I wasn’t too awfully surprised when “she” decided that six weeks and no answer was just no longer acceptable.  Gee, you think?!

So “she” took matters into “her” own paws.  And really, it was probably just as well.  Because while the original thought was something simple….throw some creativity into it and it takes on a life of it's own and becomes something else entirely.  At least "she" won't have to feed it or train it to use the litter box.

I wonder though….do any of you creative types do and then re-do something you are creating?!?  “She” thought “she” wanted lots of fabric roses.  I wasn’t impressed but as long as they were not on my cushions I wouldn’t say a word.

There must have been a bazillion of them.  "She" worked several nights on them.  Only stopping when "her" paws hurt.  When "she" reached the magic number of a bazillion, some were pinned on the headboard and “she” thought “she” liked them.  So "she" started gluing them on.  Then about halfway through the bazillion roses, “she” paused and wasn’t sure this was what “she” really wanted.  

"She" would sit and stare at them.  And I would nap.   

The more "she" looked the more certain "she" was that they were coming off.  The design was no good.

But the roses.  They had other plans.  And they were NOT cooperative.  Not even a little bit.

The glue had dried.  Hard as a rock. 

Pulling and twisting did nothing.  Well...except tear the net lace.

Scissors became necessary. 

Oops.  Scissors slipped a little.  Sure hope that can be covered up. Can fake suede be glued back together?

Sure you don’t want those roses on there?  Maybe just a few??!?

Many came off.  Unwillingly.  But they came off.

Some stayed.  Some didn't make it through the tear them off phase and they became fabric lumps.  And some were relocated to another configuration.  No, not the lumpy torn ones.  I got those. BTW, they slide very nicely along the wood floor.  I'll share them with you if you come over to play.

Then one evening something magical must have happened because “she” started working with specific direction.  And common sense – pin things BEFORE gluing and BE SURE you want what you see. 

Walk away from it.  Revisit and look to see if you still like the direction. Novel idea, yes? As you may be suspecting, naturally, I suggested this plan of attack.  

I think that because of my contribution and support as well as Grand-dad’s talent with wood, it turned out acceptable.  I’m still testing the cushions for comfort….I’ll let you know what I think…..after my nap…..

Anyone else want to volunteer to help me try out the new bench for comfort?????  The pay isn't good, but the benefits are pretty decent....milk and snacks will be served....

Wonders of the world (part two)

Welcome back! As promised, although a little later than I would have hoped for....c'mon along....I want to show you the other four wonders of my world.....

Number Four

The more beat up and tattered, the better it is.  Give “her” something that has been loved and used … no longer useful to the rest of the population and “she” is head over paws in love.  

Many years ago, Dad would look at what "she" would drag in and rhetorically question, "you're not bringing that in the house are you?"

Grand-dad was more helpful.....he would ask if "she" needed help putting it out to the curb for the garbage man to pick up.  Thoughtful, yes?

The greater wonder though is that “she” will pay money for this afore mentioned junk.  Yep.  Good cat snack money squandered away.  On junk.

Certainly, you wouldn't pay for this stuff.  I mean the shoes are too old to wear, buttons missing; the rabbit...well his stuffing is coming out and he doesn't even have any eyes! And the lamp shade....oh dear, it's hanging in tatters.  If "she" were to put the ceiling fan on high speed I am certain there would be nothing left of the lampshade.  Really!

You wouldn't buy this old junk....would you?!?  Oh please say no....you wouldn't want to see me faint....oh oh....my whiskers are feeling limp.....

Number Five

Remember my trainee, little MissTessa?  "She" rescued this limping damsel in distress and found soon enough that she was fine.  Tessa was born with only three legs.  Okay, technically, she is a special needs cat.  Some might go so far as to say she has a disability. 

Sure thing.  Special needs. Three legs…..with extra umphf that allows her to propel  that little orange fluffiness to new heights. 

But does Tessa get in trouble?  I mean she's up on the mantel.  Or on top of a cupboard.  Or scaling to the top of a large stack of vintage linens.  

And yet, “she” only watches in 'awe, isn't that cute'.  Or runs to get the camera to take Tessa's picture.  

Up on top of where I wouldn't be allowed.  

Hmphf.  I wonder, why do I get in trouble if I do the same upward propelling?!?Do you think I need to work on my cuteness factor?

Or maybe I could work on a limp.....surely "she" wouldn't yell at me if I had a limp......

I think I'll try this.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Number Six

This is “her” trailer.  Seventeen foot, double axle, v-nose trailer.  Lots of room. 

Full.  

Of junk. 

To sell. 

Some to keep. But there is no more room in the house.  Unless Dad’s stuff is moved out into the yard.  Or the barn.  

See? The trailer looks full.  Yes?

No, apparently not.  “She” went to an auction last week.  Again.  And brought home more junk. 

It’s a wonder.  The tires on the trailer aren’t flat and the bottom hasn’t fallen out.  

Yet. 

Check back next week, there's another auction.  

I'm pretty confident there will be more junk brought home by bidder 705.

I think I'd better get "her" motivated into listing some more junk inventory on Etsy.  I wonder if they have bargain rates for someone like "her".....




Number Seven

I saved the most astounding for last.  But you knew I'd do that didn't you? Ah, no fooling you.  Good thing you're not a mouse.

Anyway, number seven is that one thing that continues to astound both "her" and I on a daily basis.

Can you guess?

It's my love for "her".  I mean I am a ferocious feline of a cat!  I climb trees and chase shadows monsters.  Yeah, yeah I know my name is Romeo.  Smoochy boy and all that junk.  But really I am a cat.  And ferocious.  (Did I mention that?)

And if you were not aware, ferocious cat beasties, such as myself, are not known for liking humans, must less love.  But there it is - the truth.  And now that I've confessed this wonder that truly leaves me feeling whoozy, let's try and forget it. 

Okay?

I have a reputation to maintain.  Ferocious loving smoochy adoring of "her".  So um, let's see.....

Revision: Wonder number seven is how I can be so much more ferocious than any other cat ever known. Oh yes, and handsome.  Don't forget handsome.  And ferocious. 

I bet you have wonder all around you too......take a close look, it's right....there.....

Wonders of the world

(Part one of two)

There are many wonders of the world.  Although officially, they only give credit to seven.  I’ll certainly agree those chosen are incredible.  But I’m asking: why stop at seven?!

This is pretty incredible and wonderous, is it not?!?  It is a sinkhole off the coast of Belize.  It is reported to be a 1/4 mile across and an incredible dive spot.  But it’s not one of “the seven” wonders.

And you know if they missed that one, they obviously have not even considered the wonders of MY world.  Nope, not a one.  Now being a very smart cat, I admit that relatively speaking, they are of lesser significance to the outside world….but to me?  Well ….they do indeed meet Webster’s definitions:

Wonder

1 : a cause of astonishment
2 : the quality of exciting amazed admiration
3 : rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience

Note, there is no mention of a "wonder" having to be in a far away land.  Which is good since my adventures don't involve a whole lot of car time....thank goodness....car rides make me wheezy.So that would mean my wonders should count, yes?  

Anyway, in no particular order of tail fluffing significance, follow me, I’d like to share a few with you…

Number One

At least once a day, “she” herds all the wandering toys back to the toy basket – land of all things good and catnip smelly.  And 6 out of 7 mornings, she finds this:

Just how many times can this evil mouse be hunted and die?  This mouse has far exceeded my nine lives, that much is for sure.  And while he may be a little rough looking from the hunt, apparently he is immortal.  I hope he’s not one of those vampire mousies….or maybe it's a zombie mouse!  .I may not sleep so well anymore…..

Number Two

Hard to recognize I know, but this is a birdhouse.  A functioning house for wayward bluebirds.  Has to be wayward and down right desperate blue birds.  I mean I think it should have fallen off the light pole probably about two years ago.

Thought for sure this was the year.  Blue birds build nest.  Lay eggs.  Eggs hatch.  Babies grow…..if they grow too much I’m certain the bottom will fall off or the sides simply drop off as the little ones expand. 

But it doesn’t happen.  How is this possible?!?  And why would any normal bird even consider building a home in that broken down old box? See why I call it a “wonder”.  Truly.


Number Three

This is Grammie's hand.  And this is Ralphie's paw.

Ralphie is NOT a dog.  Ralphie is a cat.

A VERY large cat.  So do tell....just how big can a cat get?  Ralphie is 20 pounds. And no fat.

Started out as two small cute little fluff balls.  Don’t we all?  Well cats and pups that is.  Forget humans.  They start out as lizards.  At least that’s what Dad says. 

And will you look at this tail?!?  It’s as wide as his body! 

His brother Alphie is only 16 pounds.  ONLY?  C’mon now I’m a healthy strapping fellow at 13 pounds.  I’m thinking that maybe someone pulled a fast one on Grammie and Granddad.  They only *think* they adopted a couple of cats.  I’m voting they are really dogs masquerading as cats.  The proof:  Ralphie eats Cheetos, BBQ, tomatoes, cantaloupe, and just about anything that doesn’t move quick enough.  Only dogs eat like that right? 

If they are NOT dogs, then I’m thinking I may have not gotten my full share when they were handing out substance and fluff.  

So work with me here…..they are dogs.  

That just look like cats. 

Yes?

Curious about the other four wonders of my world? Stop by again soon.......

It was bound to happen.

“She” rearranges the studio.  Weeks ago.  Has it been a month? Or more?

While doing that, things get moved into the office while what goes where in the studio is decided.  Then the office was trashed. Or maybe a bomb went off in there. The resulting look is about the same.

Then finally, the studio rearrange is complete.  

But the office was still a mess, but not as bad. Kind of like in it’s normal state, in my purrsonal opinion.

Then the office gets all things put away.

Pretty much. 

Sort of.

But still the urge to take apart and put back together again. But what is left that begs change?

Yep. My blog.

Just a few changes.  

Changes will do me good, right? Kind of like a new fur cut, but not so bad.  Or a new outfit.

Yep.  I can deal with this.

The change to the blog.

Not the new outfit.

But the question now:

What’s next??!??!