I've had animals coming out my ears. I don't own a single pet. Not even a beetle. But I inevitably end up with someone else's animal at my house or in my car.
Pet sitting. I do it.
There are the cats.
They look like the house mafia.
That one kitty in the pink sweater is actually a boy kitty. Also he's a sphinx kitty. Which means he's hairless, wrinkled, and looks like an old man with super giant ears. I can never remember his name. It doesn't matter though because I'll always call him Oh you poor thing you must be freezing here's your sweater let me put it on you. It's a long name, but he totally understands what I'm saying when I call him.
Then he hides under the bed.
Poor thing. Hairless and living in north Idaho. I feel sorry for him.
And there's Mimi who wants in the house, and the Sheriff who wants outside so he can sniff important things, and Bud who mostly wants to follow me around and stick his face in mine and ask me to be his girlfriend.
And Bunnyhop. Bunnyhop is a boy. I know this because I pulled him out of his cage and he flopped around indecently and I saw things. Things I wish I didn't see because now I'll never be able to think of Bunnyhop as a cute little fluff ball again.
I blushed for him and told him to keep himself pulled together or I'd tie a scarf over his... things.
He hid under the chair after that.
Some dogs like to sunbathe and read some books...
And some cute little animals have to be caged in so they don't mess with my laptop...
... because apparently keyboard buttons are the coolest thing ever. And open paint cans are also the coolest things ever.
Please could you take these chairs away? I promise I won't touch your laptop. And I'll only touch the paint that's dried...
She's a cute little pooper isn't she?
She belongs to my friend, and sometimes I get to borrow her.
Babysitting. I do it.
Her name is Elly and I love her.
And speaking of animals, Molly turned three on Sunday.
Molly's a rapscallion. A rascal. An imp. She has more personality than anyone I know.
She's very bad. But she's also very good.
It just depends on the day.
Karen said she thinks Molly wasn't born. She thinks she was hatched from an egg.
Like a little baby quail...
Karen saw a quail family in her backyard, and took pictures.
The moma quail had all 10 of her itty bitty one inch tall babies huddled under her protective breast.
Karen thought that was sweet. She also told Tim to Look at the baby quail! They're nursing!
She says as soon as she said it, she realized quail don't nurse.
There are many reasons I love Karen. Her thinking that quail nurse is one of them.
Even if she did only think it for a split second.
Lily is beautiful.
She just is.
This is were I work most days.
That's an infinity pool. With a waterfall. Facing the river. With an air conditioned house behind it.
And let me tell ya, in the heat of the last few weeks, it's a wonderful place to work.
Practically a fairy tale.
I have lunch in the little batman cave behind the waterfall, and stick my legs in the pool.
I'm not trying to make you jealous or anything.
I have tomatoes! And peppers. And teeny little spaghetti squashes.
I was pretty stoked when I saw them last week.
I took pictures.
Two days later, the office manager told me I had to Remove all your flower pots as they are causing water damage to the apartment below you.
I thought many thoughts. None of which were Christian or repeatable.
Then I placed my entire garden in mom's truck and took it to Karen's. And cried the whole time. I even hiccuped.
But it's okay because I've decided to retaliate by getting a house. Take THAT, manager! :)
I finished a few projects around the house.
I love how they turned out!
And my sign...
We had a special speaker at church the other Sunday.
He spoke on being poured out for God.
Because God poured Himself out for us. Completely poured.
It pricked my heart. Because you know what? God's a good filler, and a lot of the time when God fills me up to overflowing, you know what I do? I hoard. I hoard the overflowing and keep it for myself. I don't pour out completely.
And then two things happen that make me unhappy.
One, hoarding keeps God from being able to keep filling. There's no room for it. I'm already full.
And two, holding back has this tendency to make me focus on the blessing rather than the Blessor, (is Blessor a word? Or did I just make it up?) and then the blessings turn sour.
Does that make sense?
Here's the thing. I have the urge to wander. And even if it's just a little wandering, it messes everything up.
And I need a daily reminder to pour myself out, to bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Hence the sign. I love it.
Someone punctured a couple of mom's tires on her truck. The things kids do for fun these days.
Someone else left a rude note on her door. Something about I want your parking spot so there.
My neighbor upstairs goes pee every morning. It's like me, my coffee, and my neighbor peeing. And I'm like, Hi. I heard you peeing this morning. It was awesome.
I can't talk about what my other neighbors do. This is a G rated blog.
Apartment life is great.
I spent July 4th with the Hoovers, and had french press coffee for the first time in my life. And can I just say, my life is completely different now? I venture to say, ...french press coffee is better than chocolate. There. I said it. It felt weird, but it's true!
I'm going to Boise the end of this month with a girlfriend. I can't wait. We're going to do fun stuff. Jet skiing will be involved and I've never done that.
And all you Boise cyber friends of mine... let's get together... yeah, yeah, yeah!
I want to meet all of you in real life!
I made laundry soap. And chicken salad. And stuffed strawberries. All in the same day!
I felt like a chef.
I'll post the recipes sometime. Like a real cook or something.
I've worked and sweated and made some money.
My toenails were like large talons so I clipped them.
I had a little girl's slumber party wherein we painted fingernails and watched the Tammy movies. Rather, they watched the Tammy movies while I slept like the dead.
I had a blast.
We had big thunder storms this weeks. Very loud thunder. Loud enough to wake me up Sunday morning. That's loud. Loud as in I slept through an earthquake one time. It knocked a picture off my wall which then bounced off my headboard before narrowly missing my dead-to-the-world face and hitting the floor. And the next morning Moma said, So did the earthquake scare you last night? And I was like, What earthquake?
But on Sunday morning the thunder rolled and crashed, and I jolted up in bed and shrieked, SPEAK LORD, FOR THY SERVANT HEARETH.
And then I had to go pee. Me and my upstairs neighbor.
And on that note, I leave you. Farewell until the next time I get five spare seconds.