Suckers

Anyone who knows our family knows that a good portion of our lives revolve around Eddie and his Allergies. Granted, he's not one of those wheat/dairy/nuts/everything under the sun allergy kids, but even looking at pictures of things furry or damp or dusty sends him into sneezing fits and brings to the surface of his skin dry scaly rashes that are nearly impossible to get rid of. However, we manage to avoid most of his allergens, and we're lucky to be able to do so. We live(d) in a pet free home that I diligently dust and vacuum, and aided with a healthy dose of Zyrtek we manage to visit our pet-loving family members without him going into asthmatic shock as he did as a toddler. His allergist, who's been on our Christmas Card list for a few years now, can't believe how well he's doing. Unfortunately, a few days ago, we found this in the cold, wet driveway: Something about a warm, purring, wriggly little body in your hands sort of removes all fear and apprehension, all LOGIC from your mind. Of COURSE Eddie would be fine if this poor starving kitten slummed it with us for a while! We're not even sure he's still allergic, right??? Besides, it'll be a BASEMENT cat! Just to kill the mice! Clint resisted for about 20 seconds, until I smooshed the putty-like kitten up against his face a couple of times and he agreed, "It would be nice to get rid of the mice." We named her Pumpkin, because she's our Halloween cat. He was in the car buying food and litter and flea bath before I could tell him what a bad idea it'd be, us getting a cat when walking by a pet store makes Ed sneeze. We told Eddie we we're her foster parents and might only be able to keep her for a little while, until permanent parents came to claim her. Like the humane society, where we're probably going to end up taking her when Eddie goes into anaphylactic shock. She's only ventured out of the basement a couple of times, when she smells Taco Bell and hears the Daily Show starting, long after the kids have gone to bed, but she's skittish enough that it doesn't last long. Her domain is the basement, or what we now call Pumpkin's Dungeon. It's nice to have a pet around again, but I'm hoping she won't get too comfortable and start LAYING on the FURNITURE. Because then we'd for sure have to get rid of her. Good thing cats hate laying on warm, cushy couches. I don't know what I was thinking.

Mulberry Armoire

Fall has always been my favorite season. I appreciate all of the seasons, really; I love the pulled muscles from shoveling three feet of snow in the winter, I love the scorching seat belts in July, I love mud-drenched spring... but autumn has always been closest to my heart. Which is why today when I stepped outside to see that our God awful tree had puked ALL OF ITS LEAVES in the backyard last night I was a little disheartened. I was sort of wondering when they'd start falling, the leaves, but a little worried too. See, we've had nothing but trouble from this thing since we moved in. In the spring, the bastard of a mulberry dropped these horrid little caterpillar fuzzies all over the backyard/deck/driveway for nearly a month, and then took until July to get any leaves at all. Fuzzies, right? Doesn't sound too bad. Until you realize they get wet in the April Showers and turn into green slime that turns a normal walk out to the car into a Slip'n Slide Adventure. And there's No. Way. To get rid of them. However, I gave the stupid tree a second chance when it gave our kitchen and back yard a bit of shade this summer, getting us through the worst of the heat. The leaves are huge and really, not a bad shade of green. Unfortunately for the tree (Because I now fully intent to hack it down in the summer) I was VERY disappointed when, after all the lovely maples on the block had turned beautiful shades of orange and red, the leaves of my coffee table waiting to happen stayed that exact same green. Like so many other people that choose to live in this fine state, color changing is something I anticipate and admire every year. It's one of those things that makes living in Michigan okay, like the seven months of sub zero weather and salt damage and shoveling is sort of all right, because dammit, we have FALL, and it's PRETTY. But my stupid tree apparently doesn't subscribe to this belief, because the leaves never changed, and then instead of dropping leaves one by one in fall's crisp breezes, it took a giant dump behind my house and now I have this: And This: In one day. There was nothing thoughtful or romantic about it, just a giant "I'm done for the year," like your husband going to bed with a belch and a ball scratch, just done, no "Have a nice winter, see you in the spring," or anything. It's the last hurrah before we see the damn caterpillars again. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go rake. And curse.