She's a much-beloved part of our family. That's how we think of her. She views us as pretty decent servants. She spends most of these summer days outside, and bangs on the screen when she wants us to let her in. When Kelly brought her to us, she said, "She's a mouser." Kelly, you weren't quite right. Puddles is a mouser, a moler, a birder, and a little baby bunnier. And guess who gets to dispose of her conquests. Hint: not Puddles.
* Now that we're adults, my sisters and I are good friends and have mostly forgotten what it was like to have to live in the same house with each other. One thing has stayed with me all these years, however. Hey, Rose, remember that thing you used to say when you walked into a room? "Whatcha doin', hutchahooin'?" Even if you don't, I do. More so now that Stuart has been hit by the same inspiration. He now replies to questions with, "Nothing of interest collinterest," or "All right carolite." Not that I want revenge, but I'm hoping one of your kids develops a habit of trailing off at the... end of what she's....
* Addie's always pleading to read our books. She claims she's read all the kids books in the house, and she might be right. Still, we keep turning her down. Today I finished a Cat Who book, and as soon as I put it down, she pounced. "Can I read this one?" I thought about it, and decided there wasn't anything terrible in it. "Okay, fine." I told Darren an hour or two later that I doubted she'd get past the first chapter. Except when I saw her next, she was on page 67 and thought the cats were pretty funny. Um, yes, we let our eight-year-old read murder mysteries.
* Speaking of the Cat Who books, I've read several of them, including the one that Darren and I listened to on our honeymoon. They irritate me in a variety of ways. The author thinks she's created a cozy small town "400 miles north of everywhere," yet her hero can get Rochefort and smoked Gouda cheese without having to order it in. Her small-town paper, the Moose County Something, has a "night desk" for collecting news after closing time. And she has no touch for names at all. Her sins include a toddler named Sandra (in 1994), a "young mother" named Marge (2002), and a college student named Cathy (2002). So why do I read these books when they irritate me so much? Ask me after I've finished the next one, and maybe I'll have figured it out.
* Of all the cute nickname possibilities for Phillip, I'm very sorry to admit that the one that's stuck is... ready for this?... Phillipy Dillipy. Created by Stuart, or did I not need to mention that?
-- SJ
4 comments:
You know what? I haven't forgotten my much-used phrase (and how it irritated you when I said it). In fact I thought it the other day. :)
I think I was 8 when I started sneaking books out of my mom's bookshelf and reading them. I remember being completely confused by one really adult book about a couple who did it all the wrong way, and then found Jesus. It twas pretty juicy. I'm none the worse for it. By my teens I had found a little more reading material and a little more of a challenge in school.
It is nice to see how Puddles is doing. She is so THIN! Mia is terrifically fat now, despite her new playmate. What do you feed her sister? Perhaps we're doing this wrong? Or is it her self-caught diet that keeps her healthy? ;-)
If you ask Puddles, she'll say that we provide her with one part good food and two parts nasty rat poison disguised as food. She's one picky eater.
She says to tell Mia that it's all about exercise: roaming the neighborhood, challenging dogs, and always going with the family on walks. (People laugh when they realize that Puddles follows us around the block like a puppy.) No BB guns and overcautious neighbors here.
-- SJ
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