Sweet Dreams are Made of These

Today is my friend Harvey Deselms’ birthday. He and his dog, Dot, have a big birthday party every year at their art gallery so all of us artists can mooch food and hopefully sell stuff to the people with money.

This year there was a balloon artist. When I arrived, Dot – who is much cuter as a four-year-old than she was as a bitey jumpy puppy – was harassing the balloon guy. She wanted his marker, his scissors, his HEY IS THAT A BALLOON CAN I HAVE THE BALLOON!?!

Later, I got this.

Kitten Thunder was not impressed.

The weird thing is that, on Saturday at the 17th Street Arts Festival, a little boy gave me a balloon flower. So we went from no local balloonists to two. The lady at the arts festival made this.

That’s Salvador Dali, in case you were thinking Groucho Marx.

And what does any of this have to do with the cats?

Nothing. Here’s this week’s story:

Oliver, as you know, loves breakfast. He loves the word breakfast. Just whispering “breakfast” in his ear while we’re snuggling will make him purr. So it should come as no surprise that he dreams about breakfast.

Yesterday, Oli was napping on the loveseat. His toes curled up. Then his lips started smacking. Smack smack. Then, from all the way across the room, I heard the purr.

The breakfast of his dreams.

Obi was not so lucky. Today, the brown kitten was snuggling with me (don’t tell him I told you that) and he’d settled down on the couch with his head resting on my stomach.

He was settled, but my stomach was not.

My tummy gurgled and growled for an hour. Eventually the sound worked its way into Obi’s dream. At first he was merely snarling whenever my stomach gurbled. Then his ears twitched as his lip curled up. Finally, he’d had enough of whatever dream creature that was full of big talk in his dream.

He growled back.

I laughed.

Dream over.

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Grandpeoplepalooza

If I haven’t responded to your comment on a post this week it is because our six-months-after-we-got-married reception was this weekend. Operation: Don’t Let The World Know We’re Slobs went into high gear and we cleaned all week.

Kitten Thunder was not pleased. Cleaning is seldom good news.

But then the first grandperson arrived and they relaxed.

Grandpeople are good.

And then more grandpeople came. And then more grandpeople. And then More Grandpeople – this More is capitalized because my grandparents aren’t great-grandparents to my niece and nephew, they are more-grandparents. Thus, More Grandpeople.

Grandpeople are good.

For the party, Kitten Thunder was locked in the Thunder Sanctuary in the basement. Oliver loudly objected, but eventually he calmed down. A few visitors were guided in to meet the kittehs because one can’t hear so much about them and then go to their house and NOT meet them, right? They were good hosts to all who visited them.

As the evening wound down, Grandperson Cate liberated them from their sanctuary. They socialized with the remaining family members. Oliver let my grandpa rub his belly and put him in the claw. And then the grey kitten made More Grandperson bleed. But my family shrugs this sort of thing off – you play rough and a little injury is to be expected.

And then this kittehs noticed something even better than grandpeople. Presents.

First, a bag big enough for all 25 pounds of Kitten Thunder. Not that both of them are willing to be in there at once. I barely got the present out of this bag before Oli climbed in.

And then…

Tissue!

Kitten Thunder would like to thank everyone for their gifts. The Girl and Boy, of course, are more concerned about the stuff that was wrapped in the tissue and in the bags. And even though they weren’t expecting gifts, they are appreciative of the ones that appeared anyway.

Today was a slower day and only one grandperson remains. We had a quiet afternoon, watching a movie and turning a pair of jeans into a skirt. Obi, of course, was there to help.

 

Snapshots of a Busy Week

There are puzzle pieces all over the house. The Boy says it was Obi. Kitten profiling!

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I was out of the house all day so Kitten Thunder is working overtime to make up for it.

Here we are on the couch, snuggling hard.

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The Boy accused Obi of being on the counter last night because we heard someone jump down. Kitten profiling!

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Does anyone watch Grey’s Anatomy? Because boy howdy is that hospital jinxed!

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Evidently there is a big snow storm coming. It isn’t very impressive yet. My mom pointed out that I’ve lost the fun of a snow day by working from home. My boss is going to make me work regardless of the weather but she is going to let me wear jeans, a big sweater and fluffy socks.

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Somebody was playing with the strings on our blinds this morning at still-dark-thirty. I told Obi to knock it off. Kitten profiling!

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It is Thunder Thursday! On Tuesday I went to a party at the home of Jenny, Gus, and Gabe. Their person, Mona, also happens to live there. An unexperienced eye might think SHE was actually hosting the party.

"You wasted your time with the wine and cheese; I prefer belly rubs."

"Laser kitty says it's time to go home now."