Snuggle-fest 2011

It’s getting colder and with each new passing day, the gray afternoons bleed into the dark night.
The alarm is waking me up too early-and I fight against it. After all, it’s still dark outside. The frigid wind squelches my desire to run outside-so-the treadmill gets some action once more.

Yoga pants are my outfit of choice, unless I’m forced to leave the house on some important errand which would require a jean ensemble. Then and only then, does make-up ever touch my face.

 

As I’m walking out of the door to retrieve much needed groceries with a Starbucks coffee mug in hand-of course, filled to the brim with Starbuck’s coffee-this is what I almost cannot bear to leave behind.

 

They make me second guess if we really couldn’t survive one more day on kidney beans and cream of wheat. I could turn around right now, throw the yoga pants back on and tell myself it was a valiant effort.

 

After all, these kittens are in their formative months. They need me. I shouldn’t abandon them while they are so young-even if it’s only for a few hours.

 

They need a lap to sit on, someone to pet them, to whisper to them how cute they are, to snuggle up to them…

 

…to share the warm covers with.
Stay strong, Rebekah. Your family needs groceries. Cream of wheat should not be eaten three times a day. And the beans, well, Biceps could use a break from the beans.
List in hand, keys in the door, I force myself to leave them behind. It’s hard to do.

Sleeping Positions for the Weirdo

I rounded the corner to the kitchen, only to have my eye caught by this little weirdo.

 

How can this be comfortable?

 

Did he not notice the rug just to the right of him?

 

He seems rather content. Maybe I shouldn’t question perfection.

Maxwell and his Tongue

This is Maxwell. He is all boy. He goes 100 miles per hour, or none at all.
He may look innocent, but if you are perhaps wearing a swishy skirt while preparing dinner, he may just try to climb aforementioned swishy skirt to get to you, the chicken or whatever else has caught his interest at the moment.

He may do a drive-by “catting”, which requires his paw, your leg and a lot of speed. Or he may just decide to meow incessantly while winding his way in and out of your feet up until the point you accidentally step on his already broken tail. That is our Maxwell.

 

This is also Maxwell, but at 0 miles per hour. He fell asleep apparently mid-lick. He has no clue my shutter is snapping millimeters away from his fuzzy and slightly orange face.

 

I must have taken 15 shots of this scene, never awakening “0 m.p.h Max”. This moment in time was such a reprieve from his normal antics that I dared not awaken him.

 

Bianca, sunning herself quietly, thanked me profusely-as any cat does with a tiny flick of her tail and squinty eyes.
The house was quiet for almost five minutes.