Liiiiiiiiice. I can’t quit you, lice. The latest development is nits that pass through our official professionally recommended best nit combs. I have a sinking feeling that lice are adapting by having smaller nits. There’s no point in discussing this here.
Shall we have a big reveal? Recall, the original Mama cat:
The artist is a woman named Aurore de la Morinerie.
Here is the outline that I lived with for four months:
Here is the photo that the artist showed me that made me lose my utter shit:
That chest area by the front paws – I saw an inflated, bloody sausage. I basically eased gently out of the room, turned tail and ran. (No I didn’t – we discussed it. But I said clearly, “I think I’m done for today. I need to sleep on it and process different ways of going forward.”)
Here is a slightly less atrocious view of it, oriented for easy comparison with the original:
See how the posture is altered? The tattoo cat is sitting on her hind feet, the painted cat is sprawled on her side, feet going away from the viewer, and then twisted. Coming from the tail, the spine of the tattoo cat is high in the air, whereas the spine of the painted cat is much closer to the floor. Because of this, the tattoo cat has a weirdly acute waist. Plus the chest area looking so over-inflated.
(I was pretty upset.)
Here is the fix that I presented to the tattoo artist, last Monday. My mom painted this:
(We concluded that we were stuck with the new posture.)
Okay, ready for the drum roll? Here is how it turned out:
Yes, I love it. I think it’s beautiful and I’m really happy. It’s still got some strange bits, but they’re well within my range of acceptable odd parts.
I don’t know what to think about the twists and turns it took to get here, but it’s all really okay.
Rascal: “My teacher taught me a song. It goes When I had no parents, I died! When I had no parents, I died! When I had no parents, I diiiiiiiiied!” I must say, I’m shocked that the Poppies classroom would teach such morbid lyrics.
Rascal is also a blast at the pool. He is our only kid who naturally, readily loved going under water. He holds his breath for quite some time there.
He likes to dive for the rings, but he can’t really get himself anywhere underwater, so he just sort of wriggles around and reaches hard. It’s the best.
This is a Heebie University parking lot:
I believe those are mesquite trees. That first one has the damndest thing going on:
A different kind of plant has grafted itself on to the underside of a branch. It looks like a tree with two kinds of leaves.
Here’s another couple places, along the trunk, where this second species has grafted itself on. It isn’t just superficially attached like moss – it’s growing from the wood.
My new bloggy digs reminds me strongly of this:
which was the version I owned, mid-eighties. I can’t remember much about the book anymore, except she sure did skip out on a lot of PE.
Pokey brought this home from the park:
A fun fact that I’ve learned over this past year is this:
Neo-Nazis use the number 88 as an abbreviation for the Nazi salute Heil Hitler. The letter H is eighth in the alphabet, whereby 88 becomes HH. Often, this number is associated with the number 14, e.g. 14/88, 14-88, or 1488; this number symbolizes the Fourteen Words coined by David Lane, a prominent white nationalist.
So now I’ve managed to outsmart myself of whether this particular 88 is laden with meanings or not.
City Camp was closed this week. So Jammies ran Daddy Camp with the big kids. They biked every morning, he played endless games with them, took them ice skating, took them trampoline jumping, and so on.
Hawaii had herself a personal project:
Here is a typical page:
It’s a photo album of Hawaii! She has worked extremely hard on this – choosing photos off of Jammies’ computer, printing them all out, cutting them to size, taping them in according to layouts, and so on.
Given that she’s nine years old, there must be easily 50 pages of scrapbooking. It really is a fun project.
I saw this guy on my morning walk:
Apparently he is an Egyptian Goose:
Two more the next day. I think they like me!
Ace, what’s on your face?
She came home from daycare wearing it, and kept it on for another hour or so, which is really a long time to have tape on your face.
I posted Daddy Cat, but I never did the full reveal like the others. Here is the original, by Ferdinand Ogor:
Here is the stencil outline from last March:
Here is how he ended up after two sessions:
This is the photo I posted before. I wasn’t very happy with his face, but that was before the trauma of mama cat. All of a sudden I grew a happy perspective on the shortcomings of Daddy cat.
Nevertheless, I worked him over ten ways from Sunday, and ended up presenting the artist with this, courtesy of my own mama:
in order to lighten the brow a bit.
Here’s the before and after:
I mean, it’s not very different, but I’m also not going to lose sleep over it. Jammies loves Daddy Cat, which is super important to me.
Here’s the whole thing:
I think the extra fur on the left of his head helps quite a bit, actually.
We have one last appointment in about a month. We’re going to make the browns in the kittens a little more intense, to match the adult cats, and any last details that I want her to tweak can be tweaked.
Here’s the thing about this artist: I can’t praise her highly enough for how flexible and easy-going she is. She’s never gotten huffy or hurt over my corrections and micromanaging. She just rolls with it. I couldn’t be more grateful to her for that.
Tiny pixelated Rascal does gymnastics!
Tiny pixelated Ace does gymnastics!
Pokey stands around in between activities at gymnastics!
(Hawaii’s class is on a different night.)