She's in the "old man" phase of babydom. Bald head, wrinkles, God love her. And now she has a walker. It makes the look even better.
The walker has a mirror. She loved the mirror. What a little narcissist.
Missy Fuss Pants did not want anything to do with anyone but Mama on Sunday. But didn't she look happy? She just loves her Mama.
The only other non-Mama person that Lucy was even remotely into on Sunday was a singing and dancing Ax (yeah, Dad prefers Ax to Grandpa. Don't ask). Apparently, Little Miss has a thing for the classics: Smoke on the Water, Eye of the Tiger, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. Such a good Ax.
I've decided that in an effort to make peace with the ship's wheel, that it would be kind of funny to take a picture of all our house guests at the helm of the SS Klahanie. Think photo booth at TRL. And by the way, isn't this great progress for me? I am maturing, I think.
With Jamie and Paul in town for the weekend, I had to get a picture of my boys playing boat. Chuck was lounging around in jeans and an undershirt so I kindly asked him to please put on a real shirt so I could take a quick pic. There was stomping of feet, pouting, and a giant huffy-breathe as he marched back upstairs.
Should've seen this one coming.
In case you are wondering, those are my nice white pants. And in case you were also wondering, Chuck is a size 4 at Express, although it looks like he may need the longs.
Paul, being the usual catalyst for Chuck's adventures, was all smiles. Paul knows Chuck does this for attention, and he's only too willing to encourage the behavior.
See? So proud of his BFF.
And Jamie is just as bad. Jamie decided that if Chuck was sailor, then he wanted to play pin-up like Emy got to. Jamie is such a delicate beauty.
Yep, just a typical Sunday morning around here. And don't forget, they're all pilots. They've all flown commerically. And they're all idiots.
Chuck took the manly "I can do it sans machinery" approach and after an hour of raking the moss himself, he'd covered a 2 foot by 3 foot area. We were gonna need a bigger boat.
Enter Thatchmo (I named him). Thatchmo is my new hero. Starting to consider Thatchmo as the name for Baby Allison when we finally have a kid in 2032. And I swear, I could faintly hear Thachmo singing "And I think to myself, what a wonderful lawn" the whole time.
Thatchmo cost a whole $40 to rent and in 45 minutes the entire yard was done. Done I tell you!
See.... It's the proverbial wasteland.
Ok, maybe it was a little one, but a war wound is a war wound.
Once the yard was raked it looked like 50 little mole hills littering our yard. I kept waiting for the Groundhog from Caddyshack to pop up and sing "I'm all right", but no such luck. Dang, maybe next time....
It was nice out, he was being a good boy (lie), and maybe the neighbors didn't already think we were crazies because of the ship's wheel which you can see perfectly from the street (heaven help me).
We used to do this all the time in Ellensburg. We did it enough times in Totem Lake that other tenants were used to it. So why not carry on our fine "Those Cat People" tradition in our little suburbia labyrinth?
Jack was all about the walks at the quiet apartment, but Mr. Tough Guy was not so thrilled about the noises that come with a neighborhood. Law mowers, cars, children. It's as overstimulating as a rave -- glow sticks and all. Low tail, sniff cat.
So, it was Dad's turn. He sent an email Friday inviting everyone to HIS house on Sunday. HE would be making BBQ chicken, baked beans, and corn bread, and HE wanted to invite us all. Naturally, he assigned Shane to bring the salad and Chuck to supply a dessert. Boy dinner.
Some notes about Chuck: He's a "go big or go home" guy. He takes things a little too far (did you know we have a Ship's Wheel?). He takes double dog dares very seriously.
So, if the email said Chuck was to supply the dessert then he was going to supply the dessert. He found a recipe, bought the ingredients, and made it all on his own. Big boy.
Here's his homemade Mud Pie.
It's a homemade Oreo crust, Mocha Almond Fudge ice cream, and a layer of hot fudge. You can only imagine the precision with which this pie was constructed. Painstaking. But oh...was it good!
U is for the unbelievable girl....
Is that not the way the song starts? Lucy's officially a three month old and cute as a button.
About the pictures, I can't seem to figure out how to take pics at Casa de Fe without making them tinted yellow. Buttons confuse me and I REFUSE to read the directions. That would show signs of weakness. I'm more of a trial and error kind of gal. More error than trial. So, I went for a more artist approach with these pics and took out the color, thus eliminating the problem. I'm SO resourceful.
Isn't she such a great little helper?
Finally! A picture of ALL The Pattersons! Could Lucy look more like Shane? Sorry Shelley, but you're the thing that doesn't belong here.
Ship's Wheel fans:
It was such a beautiful Sunday -- Emy had to come by for a quick sail. Sailor hat and all, Emy climbed to the bow and took the helm. I haven't seen her that happy since she met Dave Mathews. And she peed a little that day.
Here's my little pin-up. Maybe we could get a bust of Emy made for the bow, like one of those mermaid girls?!
I can trim rose bushes with unknown success because nothing's bloomed yet. And by trimmed, I mean hack until I've got 12 bleeding cuts and two splinters. Chuck, on the other hand, rebuilt the carburetor for the lawn mower. He changed the oil. He did a full service. Then, he mowed the lawn. Chuck has skillz.
I pulled weeds on Wednesday, but I'm pretty sure I pulled up a bunch of bulbs. You tell me: Did I kill these flowers? Did I do an uh-oh? I suck at this.
And up on varsity, Chuck has fixed the gutters, done the weed eating, and started to rake up the moss.
Maybe I'm more of an Indoor Homeowner. But, Chuck should Letter by summer.
Then, I tried on the latest in cute dresses for the summer and hung my head in shame. I'm too old to wear them. Much too old.
I can only assume that tapered black denim jeans paired with cracking white leather Keds and a stained Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt are in my near future.
Is it too early or too melodramatic to put up the white flag?
The before pic is always boring, not that the others are action packed, but humor me. Okay? We'll go ahead and skip that.
Here's the during. I don't think nearly enough people post during pictures. It's always the "look how pretty and clean it is". Whatever. I painted for three days, fell in the pan once, painted the TV twice, and unplugged the fridge on accident for about 3 hours. I'm a winner. I wish I was cool and could say the wine was for me because what a stressful job, but be serious. It's a leftover, it's probably stale, and it burns.
This "during" picture is to prove to Catlyn (my eternal critic) that I did actually change the paint color. It seems subtle when you're in the room, but this picture proves it's different. (Let's be honest, I'm never going to paint a room orange or chocolate -- I like simple).
And here it is now (notice the white backsplash -- Chuck's doing and I love it. Only artist offering EVER):
As kids, we both loved Where's Waldo although we approach it a little differently. Chuck would search for hours and I like searching for a solid 5 minutes and then looking for a cheat in the back of the book. Or better yet, finding someone who knows where Waldo is and paying them to show me. Perhaps this obsession went a little far one time, but we're cool with it.
We have a new little brain game we like to play. It's called "Where in the new house does Jack like to sleep?"
Did you find it?
Need another angle?
For three years this cat lived in a tiny apartment with a white couch. Nothing. New couches from a semi-grown up furniture store? Like white on rice. Countless lint roller sheets and the purchase of a "fur removal sponge" (not making this up) and it's clean. For now.
We need to child proof this house immediately. Immediately!
Not for Lucy, heavens no. I'm a good aunt, but child proofing for a 3 month old niece may be a little much. Child proofing for a 3 year old cat, however, that's another story.
Everyone knows we have a bad cat. A bad, bad, $1,700 "foreign object removal" cat. Jack has ruined plants and posed toys in the middle to frame them. I can't count the number of items he has broken by purposely pushing them to the ground (in his defense, those vases had no right sitting on the table). He ruined Vicky's dining room table, is in the process of shredding a throw rug, and I firmly believe he takes handfuls of litter and throws them around the downstairs when we aren't around.
And that's not all Mr. Man is doing while we're not looking.
Chuck's Mom came to visit this weekend from the Tri-Cities to see the new house, cuddle with Cat Baby, and meet Lucy. Vicky works the night shift (5 pm - 2 am) at Safeway as the bookkeeper; she lives by her own time zone: Kennewick Standard Time. Chuck and I are too old to be night owls anymore (losers), so we checked out, tucked Jackie Cat into bed (or so we thought), and went upstairs. Unfortunately for Jack, he forgot Grandma was still awake when he went about his nightly business.
And Grandma Vicky is a tattle tale.
Jack waited until our light went out then began pawing around in the bathroom. He opened the cabinets, hung out with the chemicals (good idea), then closed the door behind him. Seriously?
He moved onto the kitchen systematically opening cabinets, rooting around, and closing them when he was done. WHO DOES THAT?
He finished his nightly bad boy routine by jumping on the counters (yeah, like that's acceptable behavior) and started lapping up water from the sink. Not satisfied, he started drinking the soapy Dawn dish water cleaning the pots from dinner. Butthead.
So, for anyone who was wondering how Jack's doing post surgery, he's great. Just great. Anyone know how to child proof cabinets? I need to lock up my cleaning supplies so I don't end up with another vet bill for stomach pumping.
Bad cat? Angel cat.