Haley takes her job as alpha very seriously.
She’s got her eye on you.
Sarcasm can be greatly overused to the point that I will avoid people for whom sarcasm is their first, and only, language. It can be unkind and condescending, especially if misunderstood. That being said, I enjoy a quip dripping sarcasm here and there.
Cody and Carter know sarcasm and have dabbled with it. We have talked about what it is and when it is best used. Like most things, there is a time and a place.
The other night as I walked past Carter’s open bedroom door, I glance in to see him, damp hair from swimming, stretched out comfortably on the floor reading a book. Next to him lay his crumpled, wet pool towel.
I reverse a few steps and lay it on thick, voice a pitch higher, threaded with excitement.
“Oh Carter!” He looks up, interested. “I can’t wait to see where you put your towel,” and then I continued walking.
He catches up to me heading into the backyard, towel in hand.
“Oh mamma!” his voice like sunshine. “I can’t wait to see where you put your sarcasm.”
(When I inquired about where I should put my sarcasm, he smiled and told me that the trashcan would be a good place.)
I don’t always text Husband to bring me something from a room he is passing through,
but when I do, I usually get treated to a sassy reply.
He came into the living room with the requested book, his thumb casually covering the “d”.
In an effort to be uplifting, news programs tend to end with a short, feel good piece. Using this strategy last night, the final news story was about a father-daughter dance class, highlighting African American fathers and their young dance daughters. From the short bit I saw, it looked like ballet, fathers lifting their tutued daughters into the air and twirling them around (it’s very important that you read this using the first definition, not the second one listed by Collins dictionary).
I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner, one ear on the news. Carter was, for some reason, quite taken with this news story and came into the kitchen to share it with me. He asked me if I knew that there were father-daughter dances. I told him I did and then asked him if he had a daughter if he would take her to such a dance. He was unsure if he would, perhaps struggling to visualizing having a daughter of his own.
Always the one to quickly point out any inequality, Carter persisted on the subject. He insisted that there needed to be mother-son dances. Then he looked at me, eyes squinted ever so slightly, “But I don’t think you could pick me up.”
I laughed and explained that typically it is the male dancer who picks up the female dancer and so he would be the one to pick me up. At this he tried unsuccessfully to pick me up.
Then he asks the question – “How much do you weigh, momma?” to which I quickly respond – “How much do you think I weigh?”
He looks me up and down and proclaimed that I weigh 149 pounds (so specific!). I gasp in mock horror at his response.
When from down the hall Cody, ever wise beyond his 14 years, calls out, “Carter! Don’t you know you never answer that question?!?”
Feather fluff of quail and empty shells remains.
Chloe – the least photogenic of our cats, often caught looking annoyed and bitter. Does not really like any of us. Here she is caught in a rare contemplative expression under the warm glow of Carter’s new “zen lights”.
Leia (short for Princess Leia) – quirky, petite, and often aloof. Likes to be held when her humans are trying to cook dinner or do laundry. Seen here with a sleeping James and Goat.
James – the most photogenic of the cats. More personality than a roomful of clowns, but not as scary. A total momma’s boy.
And no, for all you concerned readers out there, we do not give our cats wine. Usually. (Really, we never do, they’re much to elite for our wine choices/budget.)
Carter enjoys reading about history, especially the shady or darker parts of history such as wars, treason, and diseases. One of his favorite book series is Nathan Hale’s Hazardous Tales.
Carter also likes sharing what he learns, random tidbits at random times.
What Carter does not understand is the concept of a fun fact. For example this is a fun fact: (number 17 of 101 fun facts you can find here.)
A fun fact is lighthearted, entertaining, and, well, a fact. A fun fact is something you could bring up at a social gathering, (remember those?), to impress your friends.
I bring up chickens to impress my friends, what about you? Growing up on a mini farm, I have lots of fun facts related to chickens, such as you can tell the color egg a hen will lay based upon the color of their earlobe (unless, of course it is an Araucana). Red earlobe = brown shelled egg and white earlobe = white shelled egg.
Carter will come up to Husband or myself and ask if we want to hear a fun fact. Then usually without waiting for our reply, he will spit out a fact relating to trench warfare or the Donner Party.
A fact, yes, but a fun fact? I think not.
Beneath us a persistence, a resilience, an unwavering need to grow, move forward, live.
And from that pulse, sprout over root, leaf over sprout, climbing up and out, there is strength and beauty.
Waffles with red, white, and blue for our breakfast this morning. (Sorry but no pictures of the waffles, I was too busy eating.)
May you have a safe, smart, and cheerful 4th!
I’m going to start a weekly Fur Friday theme to my blog. I do not have a solid idea what this will entail other than it will have something to do with our menagerie of animals. There will be a photo or two and some words, or not. It will take place on Friday because I like alteration a lot. I will also have the right to change the rules whenever and however I please.
I landed on this idea for a few reasons. One, school will be starting up again, in whatever form that may be, and I will be much busier. When life gets busy, my blogging suffers and I hope this fun Friday format will inspire me to at least stay connected when the going gets tough. Two, my camera roll is ridiculously and overwhelmingly heavy with pet pictures. Why not share the love? Three, I get a lot of my writing inspiration from visuals, photographs or visual experiences. Writing about our furry critters is easy and enjoyable, so why wouldn’t I do this?
On an unrelated note, this week marks my ninth year with this blog. I’m so glad I started blogging when Cody and Carter were little. I am not a baby book or scrapbook person. This is the one place I have more or less consistently jotted down our life moments, big and small. Currently the boys take an interest in my blog more to humor me than anything, but when they do, it is sweet to watch them step back in time to their childhood and listen to them exclaim, “Oh, I remember that…”
Whether you are a long time reader or you just popped by to see the orange cat “hiding” under the bed, thank you for being a part of my blogging experience.
Cheers and happy Friday!