Tag Archives: beer

The Hungry Strikes Back

Another note from Oliver:

The other day, I told you about how I brought about continued breakfasts by using a negotiation tool – the hungry strike. You might not know this, but my Girl is smart. After seeing me use this tool just once, my Girl turned it around on me!

Afternoon nap time was over and my Girl, I found, was in the out, spraying water on the ground. I don’t know what the ground outside did to make my Girl angry, but it gets punished with water spritzing at least once a day. Especially the ground she put in pots. It was super naughty.

While Obi and I were supervising, The Boy came up the sidewalk. He goes away every morning, and he must not be as smart as my Girl because it takes him ALL DAY to find his way back. Obi says I’m wrong – The Boy is just as smart but he goes on bigger adventures. After all, The Boy is safe inside the house with far less supervision. I say that is because my Girl is more precious. Anyway…

My Girl and The Boy discussed the naughty dirt for a while. Then they came inside. Obi got a belly rub while I took off my Girl’s shoes. Then she went to the fridge, pulled out two bottles, and she and The Boy went BACK outside. The Boy sat outside on the porch, right by the window by our condo. My girl was out there somewhere as well; I couldn’t see her but I could hear her.

So Obi and I supervised through the screen. I waited patiently, figuring they must need to discuss something important. Surely she would return for our evening snuggle as quickly as she could. But the conversation seemed normal. And then The Boy came in and got two more bottles from the fridge.

Enough was enough.

“Girl!” I called. “Get in!”

“What?” The Boy said. I can tell when he does this that he thinks he’s imitating the authority in my voice, but from him it sounds kind of whiney.

“Girl! In!”

“Oliver,” she said, “will you go make our pizza?”

“In! Now!”

“Seriously, Oli. I think I’m going to go on a hungry strike. No snuggles until I’ve had my pizza.”

Hmm, sneaky Girl.

The Boy chimed in: “what would you put on our pizza, Oli?”

“Tuna,” I replied thoughtfully as my mind raced to put a paw on the right countermove. Obi had arrived next to me and chimed in, “cheese.” I rolled my eyes and toothed his ear. I would never put cheese on a pizza. I hate cheese. I only eat it because I’m alpha food cat so I have to eat the stupid things they put out for Obi. Cheese. Gross.

“Cheese would be good on a pizza, Baby,” my Girl said to Obi. “TUNA,” I repeated, louder so she’d hear me this time.

The Boy and my Girl changed the subject again. I waited patiently for them to get back to the subject at paw. Eventually, I had to repeat my demands. “In. In. In.”

“Is my pizza done?” my Girl asked. I heard her sigh. “My beer is gone. I guess we have to make our own dang pizza.”

And then The Boy and my Girl were inside. I watched hopefully while they cooked the pizza – pepperoni…olives…and…cheese. Oy.

I guess you can’t blame them for sour grapes – they put up a tough negotiation but Oliver will always win in the end. And seal the deal with a snuggle.


Trying Out the Box of the Month

Have I mentioned how perfect the boxes from our monthly beer shipments are?IMG_20140113_194318_011IMG_20140113_194327_150 IMG_20140113_194505_072 IMG_20140113_194507_705 IMG_20140113_194527_284 IMG_20140113_194531_201 IMG_20140113_194533_656 IMG_20140113_194539_793

Box of the Month

Oliver and Obi were signed up for the box of the month club for Christmas. Another box came today. They would like it better if the boxes didn’t come filled with beer, but something is needed to hold the box down if UPS comes when The Girl isn’t home.

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Yesterday was a holiday. I didn’t realize this until dinner time on Sunday night, in spite of the fact that I mentioned it on numerous client Facebook pages. But it was a nice surprise.

On three day weekends, I kind of split the difference between working and not working because there’s really not a day that I don’t work a little bit. I did a little bit of client work. Then I started to clean my office.

I haven’t worked in my office for about two months. At least. Part of the problem is that it is colder in that room than any other in the house. Another part of the problem is that there were shelves that kept my chair from rolling around freely, making it hard to back up far enough to access the power strip for plugging things in – things like my laptop and a space heater. So, yesterday, I fixed it.

I moved the shelves from behind my chair to under the window. I thought they would be slightly too tall, but they fit perfectly. And they are just right for Obi to stalk vicious leaves that blow up onto the outside sill.

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Oliver walked into the office, sniffed the sewing machine, scratched his chin on a box, and left. Obi had to bring him back in to show him the new shelves.


After I moved the condo out, I put this box on my desk. It is the perfect size for a kitten.


Or two.


The Runaround

I apologize if you felt a horrible loss over not having a Kitten Thunder blog to read on Tuesday, but I was on an important mission. I had to download and watch a movie on my computer to see what impact it would have on the battery. The Boy and I are going to Europe this spring and we wanted to know how many movies we could take with us in case we only want to watch the in-flight movie six times. I chose Anna Karenina – it was very artsy, but pretty good.

And then it was time for bed.


On Wednesday evenings, The Boy and I drink beer. This has been so since our bar, The Capitol Grille, opened about 11 years ago. When we started, sometimes we had enough people there to fill the bar. Over the years, our friends have grown up (old), had kids, and found other things to distract them from our Wednesday night tradition. Until it was just The Boy and I. And so we decided we might as well date and eventually get married.

Now when we go home at night, The Boy plays flat mousie with Obi. In case you are new to the blog, this is where The Boy throws Obi’s flat mousie into the hallway. The brown kitten races to get his toy and brings it back to the belly rubbing rug. Rinse and repeat until the kitten loses interest.

Last night, though, there was an issue. His name is Oliver.

For some reason Oliver decided to forgo his usual snuggle with The Girl and wanted to play flat mousie with The Boy and Obi. The problem being that Oliver doesn’t know how to play the game. He kept running with Obi to get the mousie, but then he would sit down, confused, and get in the way. The brown kitten had to go around, or over, the grey.

Then, Obi had enough.

The Boy threw the toy into the hallway. Obi got to it and tossed it into the air. He bumped it away and chased after it…out of sight. Oliver went to find him. He never did.

Obi came through the kitchen, and returned to the living room from the other direction. Having lost his brother – who was probably reminded as he entered the kitchen that he was peckish – the brown kitten and The Boy played on.


A kitten has to do what a kitten has to do.