When catnip is not enough

Bob has been spending a lot of time with his guitars lately. I often come home to find them scattered about the living room, gently propped up on furniture. Good for him, I would think to myself.

Then I came home one day to find this:

That's right. Bob's guitar is wearing a winter hat.

I then began to worry maybe he was spending a little too much time with his guitars. Was it possible he was beginning to anthropomorphise them? Was the next step a little knitted jacket?

Turns out, Bob wasn't worried about his guitar catching a cold. The purpose of the hat, he informed me, was to prevent more of this:

Those are teeth marks. Apparently, Cricket has been using the top of his guitar as a chew toy.

Baaaad kitty.

Could you care less, or not?

While people who pronounce "realtor" as "reel-a-tor" and those who say "spendy" still top my list, my absolute biggest pet peeve lately is the bastardization of the phrase "couldn't care less."

I have increasingly seen or heard this phrase used as "COULD care less," as if that makes sense. I even saw it used that way in a mainstream magazine article that was presumably looked at by at least one editor (shame on you, Real Simple). The writer stated that her free-spirited mother "could care less about dirty dishes." Hmmm. So what could she care more about?

Apparently there are a lot of people running around who think they DON'T care about something but continually tell to others that they REALLY DO by mangling this phrase. Perhaps the extra "n't" is just too much effort for those who are already trying to indicate they care so little? Who knows. But I suspect future generations will scratch their heads at how the then-common phrase "could care less" came about, because, they will realize, it means the opposite of what it's supposed to.

Kind of like "head over heels." Aren't our heads always over our heels? I'll bet some idiot mangled "heels over head" one day and it took off like wildfire. I'm just sayin'.

Farewell, sweet Domino

I was so sad to discover that my favorite magazine, Domino, recently folded. I love this magazine (hence my collection, above). Unfortunately, there is nothing else like it on the market right now that can fill the void for its passionate followers. And, of course, my mom just got me a subscription for my birthday three months ago. Happy Birthday to me!

I will miss the beautiful rooms, photos, ideas and inspiration that this magazine provided. It's style was chic, modern, fun, and totally accessible. I always looked forward to reading it each month.

Domino, you will be missed.

She wears her sunglasses at night

If Cricket made an 80s music video, it would look like this:

I swear it looks like she's even wearing eyeliner, but she insists she was going for more of a Don Henley "Boys of Summer" look.

For those of you who are too young (or too "mature") to know what I'm talking about, kindly move along.

In the field

One of my New Year's resolutions was to improve my photography skills, so I recently took a one-day class on nature photography taught by our friend Dan, who now has his own business. Part of the class was spent in the field where I worked on my macro (close-up) photography, even though I don't yet have a macro lens. Thus, it's really poor man's macro.

And when I say we spent time in the field, I mean an actual field, where there was very little to photograph but snow and branches.

Anyway, here are a couple of the (unedited) shots I took that day:

I kind of like the above photo because, even though it's dark, it looks like it could have been taken underwater. It kind of looks like glowing sea urchins.

This next one is a little drab, but hey - it was January in Minnesota. There wasn't a lot of color out there.

I just thought this tiny field pod was cute and begging to be photographed:

Happy Valentine's Day

I came downstairs this morning to find these:


When Bob came home from work tonight we had wine, hors d'oeuvres, and these:


Cups made of white and dark chocolate filled with mascarpone and raspberries, drizzled with honey (and no, I didn't make them myself). Mmmmmm...

Happy Valentine's Day!

Lazy Sunday

Useless. Every one of them.

I, on the other hand - in an unusual spurt of domesticity - whipped up a batch of pecan brittle. It is sooo good. And so simple: pretty much just butter, sugar, a little salt, and pecans. Here's the finished product:

Sadly, now that my kitchen skills have been exhausted, this will probably be our dinner tonight.

Cats-in-the-Box

One of the many reasons why cats are great: They are so easy to please. Give them a cardboard box, or even a box lid, and it's just like Christmas morning.

For days.

Seriously. They really love boxes.

Not so crafty

Anyone who knows me knows I am not what you would call a "crafty" person. In fact, I would rather poke my eyes out with a hot glue gun than step foot in a scrapbook or stamping store, and I would sooner stab myself with knitting needles than spend a day at Michael's or Joanne Fabrics.

But then I saw this:

(Photos courtesy of Mochimochi Land)

And this:



And this:

And I suddenly felt it, that thing that crafty women who love things like Kewpie dolls and appliques must feel – the unstoppable squeal of adorableness coming up my throat like vomit as I realized: I...want...to...make...these.

So I went to (gulp) Michael's and bought myself some knitting needles, yarn, and a book on how to knit. Now I have this:

Hmmmm.

I suppose it could possibly be fashioned into a scarf for Peanut.

Or not.

Then I found out those cute little creatures, called amigurumi, are not knitted. They are crocheted.

Realizing this is a slippery slope leading straight to the Bedazzler, I've decided to hold off on learning to crochet and see if the urge passes. My fingers are crossed.

Back in the saddle

After a decade-long hiatus I decided to begin taking riding lessons again last spring. I've been wanting to get back to them all along, but finding a stable within an hour of the metro has been challenging. Then I did a story on a woman who started her own equine accessories company, and she told me she takes lessons at a stable that turned out to be only 10 minutes from my house. I was thrilled - the stable doesn't advertise, so you can only get in with a recommendation.

So now, every Friday, I head to the stable and attempt to improve my dressage skills under the expert tutelage of my instructor, Roxanne. My first love is jumping, and I would love to get back into that someday, but this stable doesn't offer it. So I figure I'll continue to try and master dressage, then see if I still have the guts for jumping.

The horse I ride is named Jake - he's a big lug of a guy who injured himself on a barbed wire fence last summer trying to get into a paddock full of lady horses. He's fine now, but a bit lazy. Though Roxanne tells me that he's quite spry when his owner rides him, so I clearly must be the problem.

Against my better judgment, Roxanne talked me into competing in a horse show at the stable last October. Jake and I competed in the walk/trot category, where the judge watches how well you make transitions, control your horse and maintain your form. Amazingly, we walked away with a third-place ribbon! And yes, there actually were more than three competitors.

Here are some photos from the big day:

Me and Jake after our big win

This little horse is expressing his humiliation to Bob after being forced to participate in a costume contest as a pea to his young owner's princess.

Here's Bob with Andrew, a truly ginormous horse. He's very sweet, if a bit naughty. He always seems to be getting into trouble for something. He's often just running loose around the ranch, and let me tell you, the sight of Andrew coming at you, with hooves the size of bowling balls, can give you pause. But he always stops in time.

Here's a perspective shot with me:

Like I said, ginormous. This picture doesn't really even do him justice. Poor guy - he posed very patiently for several pictures and then, when he realized I didn't have a treat for him, walked away in disappointment.