For some reason I like things that show me how easily my brain can be tricked. Soarin' at Epcot was a good example. Here's another.

Poor little Rowdy! I'm glad to see he's back to his adorable self.



Hopefully he can move past the trauma and find a good home. Life in a dark drawer is not all it's cracked up to be, as my dolls, who have also had their difficulties with a pesty kitten, can attest.

I'm sure his friend has been a loyal shoulder to lean on in these trying times.

I guess it had to happen, since just about everyone we've seen in the past week has had it. Rowan and I caught the sore throat/cough/yuckiness. Which wouldn't suck quite so much if Rowan and I didn't tend to hold on to colds forever and we weren't leaving for Florida on Wednesday, where we hope to see these guys.



Godiva had to go to the vet this week - details would fall into the category of too much information, I'm afraid. The end result is that he's on antibiotics and has to wear a cone on his head. He seems quite unhappy with the affront to his dignity. He keeps walking into things and looking at me as if to ask why I am punishing him.

In better news, I had my first etsy sale. Ok, so it was Gail, which seems like cheating a bit, but I do like to think of my bowl being at her house.



I think I should probably climb into bed for a day or two, but Dagny's having another unschooler invasion this weekend (the kitchen's stocked), Sunday we'll decorate eggs, Monday we'll make Hamentashen with Grandma Carolyn (we'll see if she'll go for the idea of dying them green...), Tuesday's ice skating, and Wednesday we're off to see Mickey Mouse. So I guess I'll just do my best not to breathe on anyone.

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