Washer Trouble

The mice are drying. I realized you hadn’t seen any pictures of the mouse army.
They are much cuter and smaller now that they’ve shrunk down.

After the felting was complete I did a final spin through on the jeans that I had used to agitate. And the washer decided that this was the perfect moment to stop working. Thus giving The Boyfriend ammunition with which to blame me for the repair. Clearly it was the work of those mystical pixies again. They are always sneaking around causing havoc. The pixies are also responsible for putting cardboard in with the plastic recycling and leaving the lid of the trash can up. They hide single socks and buy ridiculous obnoxious pop songs on Itunes. It's true!

I’ve taken to referring to Nessa as My Nessa. Do you see where this is going? She’s just so sweet and so cuddly. And as I'm writing this Linus has come to claim him thrown on my lap while purring the whole time. Yes I'm feeling guilty about being a little star struck over Nessa. Although, her incessant cries for attention Saturday night were unnerving. However, I have forgiven her in light of her recent show success. There were more Second Best of Breeds than I’d like, but she did get a 3rd Best Short Hair (clap, and raise eyebrows as though you are incredibly impressed).


Nessa’s 8 pink bullets were the topic of conversation with more than one judge. My Nessa was showing all the signs of being pregnant, a big no-no in the cat show world. I reassured everyone that this could not be the case, while blushing and trying to convince myself that I was not miss representing the truth, that there were many other possible causes for those bright pink bullets. Four days later and she still looks pregers. Since she’s My Nessa, I’m seeing yarny kittens…Malabrigo… Cascade…. Rowan…. Noro….Frog Tree…. Berroco…. Pastaza…. Definitely Frog Tree!