The Weaselden

I break the silence of my cloistered existence to bring you news! Remember in Q1 I said we were trying to figure out how to get Hurricane Gabriel a buddy? We finally made it happen. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Oliver, aka Ollie, aka Ollie-pop, aka Tropical Storm Oliver (click to see him bigger and cuter):



He's just a bit shy. Let's see if we can get him to show himself a little later. We adopted him from our local shelter, Denise's Delightful Dookers, in early April. We named him Oliver after the Dickens character, because his was a sad story but we hope it too has a happy ending. Ollie was found by somebody in a field in Bellevue in the *middle of January* and turned over to Animal Control, who brought him to DDD. We have no idea if he got out and his owner couldn't find him (although s/he could have looked harder, amirite?) or if he was dumped. Denise worked hard to get him fed and healthy enough for me to come along and meet him. He's a big boy, almost three pounds now, probably a couple years old, with butterscotch fur that is now so very soft and fluffy. As you can tell, he has a sincere and earnest little face. ( More of his tale... )

We are pretty happy to have him in our weird little family. I hope he and Hurricane Gabriel have a long and happy life with us.

Happy birthday, man! I have composed this celebratory haiku in your honor:

If you sneeze on your
birthday cake, it's certain that
you won't have to share

May your day be filled with frosting, fireworks and fun.

Failed to get up when the alarm went off, thus ensuring I'll never get to sleep tonight? Check.
Failed to get all of Fiona's antibiotic medicine down her gullet? Check.
Failed to keep Gabriel from spilling half my tea? Check.
Failed to drink remaining tea until it was cold due to wrangling weasels while the Benny Hill theme played in the background? Check.
Failed to prevent Fiona from climbing to the top level of the big cage instead of keeping her quiet and resting? Check.
Failed to resist calling Shawn every half hour to interrupt his workday with vital updates such as "It's hailing!" and "I'm lonely!"? Check.
Simultaneous hail and sunshine? Check. (OK, that one wasn't my fault.)

How are you all doing today? Are you sipping the sweet nectar of success or gnawing the bitter crumbs of failcake?

Happy birthday wishes to my best beloved Shawn. May the universe shower* you with free mochas and a temporary break from general jackholery today.

*Not literally. He's wearing a white shirt.

Context: There was a nature show about hummingbirds I wanted to see Sunday night but forgot. I mentioned this to Shawn before we went to sleep.

This morning:

S: I had a dream about a hummingbird last night!

L: Oh yeah?

S: Yeah! It had a special power that it could instantly make a giant ice sculpture of itself, like as big as a house, and crush anybody it wanted to! And it would get so excited about the sculpture that it would make another one, and so on! The only way to stop it was to take it someplace it couldn't see the ice sculptures anymore!

L: ... Hon, you're the only person I know who would dream of weaponizing hummingbirds.

So far today:

Gabriel, don't climb the fireplace bricks.
Gabriel, don't hip-check your sister into the wall.
Gabriel, don't unplug the TV converter.
Gabriel, don't uninstall the carpet.
Gabriel, don't steal my fork.

And it's only 12:35. We've been up for half an hour.

I hereby declare August 21 as Official smartassbunny Day. Let there be parades in his honor, keys to the city, and hand-made truffles* for all. Craig gave up part of his day off to make the long, perilous trek down to the F-W to spend several hours in back-breaking labor. He helped Shawn move a ton of furniture, removed the world's ugliest sink counter and cabinets in the basement, capped off the plumbing, and generally advised on the appalling condition of our post-wallpaper-stripping walls. Removal of the counter revealed the original linoleum in a pattern so hideous that I can only assume it was installed by vandals. And the wall color behind it was a kind of neon jaundice that defies description outside a Lovecraft novel. Craig, the weasels are fascinated by the drywall patch. Kaylee just wouldn't leave it alone, so I'm figuring you guys ran out of joint compound and switched to Ferretone instead.

Seriously, thank you for all your help today. I'm sorry I didn't get home in time to say hi. We would love to show you the results of all this work at the housewarming party, so try to keep 2012 open.

*Except he'd probably end up having to make the truffles, and it's not very celebratory if you have to make your *own* damn truffles, so this is just a placeholder for now.

"I have an idea! Let's not climb inside the wastebasket!"

"Are you wet? You're wet. Why are you wet? You're soaked through! What have you been doing? Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

"No. No. Gabriel, no. NO. I said NO, Gabriel. NO. Dammit, I said NO. NO NO NO NO NO."

"Gabriel, nobody wants to drink water that tastes like your feet."

"That is not yours. NOT. YOURS."

"Don't you get cheeky with your dad!"

"Please don't ride your sister."

::channeling Bill Cosby:: "Come here. Come here. Come HERE. COME HERE. Come here come here comeherecomeherecomeherecomeherecomehere!"

These are all pretty much one-sided, as you might imagine. Except for this one:

::sneezes in face:: "Thanks for sharing, Gabriel."

Stress, how I hate thee! A lot of us are under a lot of stress for a lot of reasons, and I'm going to distract myself by talking about Gabriel (aka "Hurricane Gabriel") for a little bit. ( In which I blither on about Gabriel at some length. )

Oops! Gotta go - Stress has caught up to me and I must bow to its commands. Take care of yourselves, everybody!

Time: 2:25 p.m.

Status: Snowing

For the last hour or so, it has been snowing with some enthusiasm in downtown Seattle. Snow in the city has always been a rare and precious thing. I've worked downtown for 22 of the last 27 years, and I've never seen so many days of snow in a single season. We watched this particular weather front drift toward us across the Sound, spectral and implacable. Ferries trundled bravely into the haze, each one carrying my well-wish for a safe trip. Seagulls are riding the air currents, careening across the face of the building like they've been shot from a cannon. The snow doesn't seem to bother them in the least.

And then, as if at the flip of a switch, it stops.