Twilas and Tribulations.

I got a kitten. Her name is Twila-Bisous. I’ve been hesitant to post a blog about her because I didn’t want to go nuts on a kitten blog only to completely lose patience with her and sell her to what ever the kitten equivalent to a glue factory is (Chinese Food restaurant??). We’ve worked through our major issues and a few minor remain; but I can’t help it, I like this little monster.

She’s still causing me pain, I don’t want to get her de-clawed but she’s like Edward Scissor hands, a young Wolverine, or a completely mental koala bear. Two weeks ago (actually, the same night as the Butt Cookies incident) I was elbows deep in cookie dough and she decided to climb up my bare leg (I was in shorts) to get a better look at what was happening on the counter. She hung on to my thigh with nothing but nails and determination. I couldn’t hit her because I was covered in dough, so I was just wildly shaking one leg while shrieking. The screaming scared her, so she held on tighter. 15 long seconds later my wild leg shaking finally sent her flying across the kitchen floor. I sat and cried, she sat and cried. But then we talked it out.

The first few days where I was leaving her alone, I felt so bad that she was by herself so I totally over did it on cat toys. Naturally, she’d much rather play with the garbage than the toy itself. I should have learned from my dad. My mom and dad have two cats (Lala and Lee) or Staple Remover and Hole Punch (a story for another time). But my Dad doesn’t believe in spending money on toys for them so he makes his own cat toys. Apparently the big winner in Chateau Ott is the toy called “Facecloth on a string”. I don’t even think I need to explain what that is.

So no more cat toys for Twila-Bisous. She has enough fun in my closet. Last Thursday I came home and wasn’t greeted at the door. I looked around and went to my bedroom to find her tangled in 9 coat hangers in my closet (hanging in the closet). Every appendage was in a different hanger. I had to remove all 9 hangers (clothing intact) and peel them off of her one by one. She hadn’t eaten any of her food, so I actually think she was up there for hours.

We’re making this work. We have tender moments, like when she’s tired and sleeps on my shoulder, or when I found her asleep in my backpack, or when I thought that she had drank the bleach in my bathroom that I had left open for 2 minutes and I went around the house screaming for her thinking that I poisoned a kitten and that she was vomiting fire somewhere and I was going to have to keep her in my freezer until spring came and the ground thawed and everyone would think I was a horrible person, BUT she was actually under my couch playing with a twist tie the whole time. That was a nice moment.

I might post some Twila related pictures but then cut me off. It's bad enough that I have a kitten, I don't want to be the crazy blogging cat lady.

Butt I followed the recipe!

Last night, I was cozy and warm at home when I decided that a good use of my time would involve making pink heart-shaped cookies for my staff meeting the next day. I carefully made a whole pan of 48 (the cookie cutter was small); perfectly shaped little love cookies to celebrate, oh, the end of January.

I checked on the cookies half way through and I was not met by a pan of hearts. All of the dough merged together, but not in a perfect giant cookie. Instead, the curvatures of the hearts were all still there but the point at the bottom was not.

In case I haven’t described this properly, I had myself a giant pan of 48 perfectly sculpted butts. Pink butts no less. Rashy pink butts in fact because the food colouring was stronger in some areas than others.

I just laughed. Laughed at the thought of serving giant eczemaed butt cookies to my coworkers—and then I told them about this at the staff meeting. The response was “I still would have eaten the butt cookies.”

I will know for next time.