6710 Grand

I've never been a cat person. Never liked them, never really wanted one. But when my older brother told me I couldn't have one while living with him—well, suddenly whatever annoyed him the most was exactly what I wanted. His reasons were ridiculous—he was convinced it would get into the vents. But when I brought Jean-Claude home, he had no interest in the vents. The dogs, however, he would corner. Huge Labradors were so confused by this tiny rodent like fur ball—they got along just fine. Oberon came about a year later when I moved to Kansas and didn't want Jean-Claude to be alone. They were not the best of friends I'd hoped they would be. One afternoon, I'd come home from work to find Jean-Claude perched proudly on my outside balcony (they were inside kitties) and Oberon nowhere to be found. Later, I discovered that he'd fallen over the side (or been pushed?) and Jean-Claude was now the sole cat…or so he thought. Oberon was a bit of a nervous cat.

My second child is bizarre.   Aren’t they all in their own way?   Iris has developed a series of phrases that only she understands and can not seem to explain to anyone else… Lavender speaks lavender. I guess I need to have a junior. Owie owie owie cats. Bacona bacona baconalack.   And sometimes Bacona bacona bacona shoshashank. I don’t know what any of this means and yet sometimes I find myself repeating one or more of these phrases over and over, thinking of my little girl and wondering what goes on in her head.   Sometimes, Nick and I say them to each other as sort of an inside joke—it never fails to provoke a laugh. We will never forget these phrases and we will certainly never let Iris forget them.   I can envision bringing them up at all of the usual embarrassing moments—first dates, 21 st birthday and any other moment when I’ll want to remember her as my little girl and not the woman I’m sure she’ll grow up to be.   I have no doubt that we will have several more

I’ve often been called an overachiever.   I don’t disagree.   Now that life has calmed down somewhat, I find myself looking for new things to take on (an Ivy League MBA, for example).   Some things, however, remind me that despite my high “D” (DISC profile) and my type-A personality, I’m really a lazy bum.   Baking is one such activity. Baking is culinary arts for the lazy.   The girls and I bake cookies most weekends.   It’s one of those things that breaks up the day and keeps Saturdays fun.   Ivy and Iris are most excited about licking the beaters, so sometimes, I’m on my own.   I almost NEVER start and finish in one sitting.   First, I get out the butter to let it soften.   Now, I’m committed.   Once the butter is out, it can’t be put back in the wrapper without serious complications.   Even so, I can’t possibly mix the batter with cold, hard butter, so I find a nice Law & Order marathon and settle in for an episode or two.   Next, the sugar.   Easy enough and can be don