The Furry Godmother

Blown Over

Hud came back from running with Zoe this morning.  Misty-eyed, he cradled a small package in his hands, carried it to the garden and buried it. 

He had found a mother robin on the trail.  Still in her nest.  Her eggs broken on her chest.  A sad symbol of the deadly storms that ravaged the south these long three days.

 

We survived, with a basement full of water and my last good nerve in tact.  The Buckeye in the front yard was cracked in two.  I will mourn the loss of the swallowtail butterflies.  Buckeye trees are the nursery for swallowtails.  They leave their offspring nowhere else.

I guess the little momma bird would not desert hers either, despite the seventy mile an hour winds and hail.

My heart goes out to the families of the 128 people who lost their lives in the tornadoes that peppered five states.  I am without words for those who lost their homes.  The devastation is horrendous. 

And I count my blessings that we didn't leave any worse for wear.

*This is a picture taken by bbell88 at Rhodes College on the backside of Palmer Hall, during the storms yesterday*

 

Random Act of Photography

Yesterday, Simone would not go outside to relieve herself because she thought it was raining.   The gusty day was blowing down the wisteria.  It's a bridal wonderland just beyond the back door. 

 

AhDon'tCareWhatYouSay.IshRainingDammit.BiteMe.StuffIsFallingOut

OfTheSky,Right?INotDatWittle.

 

Isn'tDatWhatYouBuyMeThePeePadsFor?Huh?RainOnTheseEars!NoWay!

It's a good thing she's so cute.

Portrait Sitting. Or Not.

Hud decided to take our portraits today.  For a change, Simone was not rocketing around the room dashing in and out and around every single frame.  She sat patiently in my lap.

 

 

Then she proceded to zoom around, jumping up on the ottoman, over my lap, under the tripod and into the living room, over the landing and leaping to a chair huffing in an excited pant. 

But Monsieur?  Who normally adores having his image captured on the small screen?  The man of a thousand poses?  Twisted and squirmed and wiggled and turned and generally misbehaved. 

 

He did almost anything to avoid looking at the camera.

 

He kept kissing me.

 

You can tell by the death grip and both of our expressions just how relaxing it all was.  It was a real bonding experience I hope to never repeat.

What?  You love ze Zali!  Hees your fahvorite! Kees heem! 

We tried to get one of all three of us, but I was too worn out.   Whew! I need a drink.

Pour ze Zali a fahne freench whine, s'il vous plait!

 

*All photos by the ever-charming Hud Andrews.  And patient.  Did I mention patient?*

Rage Against the Machine

Life in my Animal House is a never ending adventure. 

 

My house is filled with beasts that leak out of every orifice.  They drop their fur, leaving giant bunnies of fluff in every corner of the house, waiting to stick to your clothing.  In essence, the washing machine is one of my best friends.

Until it decided to hate me.

Several weeks ago, I put some clothes in the washing machine, turned it on and left to paint some clay.  Ten minutes later, the Pappies and were startled by a loud THWACK!  And a bang! Bang! Bang!  We rushed downstairs to see what had happened.  I entered the kitchen.

*blink*

The agitator to the machine was lying on the floor of the kitchen, seven feet from its normal perch. 

"I don't think that's supposed to do that, " I told Zali.  He rolled his eyes.

Hud called the Home Warranty and they sent someone out the next day.  The two men expeditiously returned the agitator to its rightful home and left.  I put some laundry in and went back upstairs to paint.  Hud worked in the office with us at his computer.  The washing machine was silent.  Two hours later, Hud left for an appointment.

"Honey?" he called up the stairwell ominously, "You need to see this..."

The Paps and I raced down to find water flooding the entire kitchen.

"I don't think it's supposed to do that," I told him.  Hud rolled his eyes.

I pulled the pool towels from the hall closet and proceeded to sop up the water.  It was dissipating so quickly, I knew I was not the only source of its disappearance.  I asked Hud to check the basement.

Water seeks the lowest level.  It had poured itself down the walls and air conditioning vents to the basement below.  There was roughly three hundred gallons of water swirling in the bowels of the Hudarosa.  Hud unplugged the drains.  An hour later, it was mostly gone.

We called the people back to fix the "fix".  They said originally that they could come out a week later.  After I may or may not have pitched a little bunny fit, they changed their minds and graciously sent somebody out the next day.

Turns out the repairmen, in a hurry to the next victim appointment, had failed to hook up the hose that measures the water levels.

*blink*

The insurance has come out to render an opinion on replacing the walls in the basement.  We have a year to wait and see if any slate pops up on the kitchen floors.  The Persian carpet dried.  Another day.  Another disaster diverted.

Yesterday, was laundry day.  On the third load, Zali, Simone and I, were office bound when we were stopped in our tracks by a familiar sound.  THWACK! Bang! Bang! Bang!

We hurried back to the kitchen and foudn the agitator lying on the floor of the kitchen, seven feet from its normal perch.

"I didn't think it was supposed to do that anymore," I told Simone.  She rolled her eyes.

And now we wait.  Again.

*blink*

*The painting is, The Real World (Animal House).*

Easter Delights

Wade and Company were gracious enough to invite me to have a one day only show of my work at the Summit!  It will run through Easter brunch.  So bring your family and enjoy some of the best in Memphis dining and see my latest works.

 

The Summit is located at 5100 Poplar Ave Suite 3300, Memphis, TN 38137.  Tart yourself up in your Easter bonnet and come see us and have the best brunch in all of Memphis!

* This handsome man is called, There's Nothing to Do Around Here!*

Singing in the Rain

The weather forecasters have ominously warned of tornadoes, straight line winds and heavy flooding rains for the past two days.  My anxiety levels have reached Mt. McKinley highs.  But all of the pets?   Look like this:

Their nonchallance has me wondering if I am delusional.  Am I hyper vigilant over a simple storm?

In my turbulent youth, I loved a good rowdy thunderstorm. Once, following a sleep over at my friend's house, the twins mother called mine to ask her to come and pick me up.  It was raining very hard.  The winds were roiling.

"No," my mother replied calmly, "She'll want to walk."

And I did.  I did want to pull up my scarlett rain boots.  Bundle up in my pink slicker.  Hop in every puddle from Blendon to Hillsboro Drive.  I twirled my round pink patent leather overnighter around me.  It took me forty-five minutes to make it home.  I sang every minute despite the fact that I have never been able to carry a tune in a bucket.

It was one of the happiest memories of my childhood.