My dear Watson

TL;DR: Fish. Hamster. Cat.

I wanted a cat my entire life. I knew I didn't like dogs, the ones I knew were smelly and drooly and all up in my personal space. Cats were prettier and cooler and not as pushy, and definitely not as big and scary.

The Christmas when I was 15 or 16, there was a present under the tree that turned out to contain a box of cat food! Yay!

... It was for Puddin'.

Okay, so Pepper wasn't my personal cat, but there was still a cat, and it was a good thing, but I still someday wanted my own.

After being an adult for awhile and living on my own, I felt it was time to start preparing to adopt a cat.

So I got a fish.

No, really. I wanted to start small, as it had been years since I'd last even lived with a pet, and I'd never been a pet owner myself.

He was a beautiful blue and red Betta fish. I bought him a tank and food and a little fake plant to swim by and a little bridge to hide under. I read the pamphlet from the store, and every website I could find. He was a good fish who made happy little bubble nests in the corners of his tank.

I named him Geisel, after beloved children's author Dr Seuss.

He lived 8 months, and when I came home to find him floating at the top of his tank I cried for hours and had to call my cousin over to help me flush him.

Next was a hamster.

I wanted something that would be more work than a fish, and also be adorable, but with still not too long of a life span, just in case I was bad at taking care of it.

Again, I read everything I could find. I bought a cage, shavings to fill it with, and toys for him to chew on. He was a Russian dwarf hamster - a wad of fluff about the size of a golf ball with caramel colored fur and bright little eyes. He was the funniest little acrobat and would do anything for a pumpkin seed.

It's not out of focus, he's just that fuzzy, I swear ... 

I named him Gandalf - partly for the white patch of fur that flowed from his chin down his chest, but also for the irony of naming a bitty fluffball after a mighty wizard.

He lived a respectable 1.5 years, then it was time to throw him out with his shavings. I cried for days.

After a few months, I decided it was time to get ready to adopt a cat. I did a lot of research, and watched many videos about how to care for my new pet. I checked my budget to make sure I could afford the monthly costs. I bought some things to be ready, and Puddin' even sent me a "kitty shower" gift of a small scratching post.

Finally one Saturday, I borrowed a carrier from a neighbor, and I and my next younger sister Dolly drove up to Salt Lake City for a gigantic multi-shelter adoption event.

So. Many. Cats.

I estimated there was about 150 cats in that one big room. There were gigantic old tortoiseshells who just wanted to be held. There were sets of tiny black-and-white kittens who played with our keys through the bars of their cage. There were chill orange toms and twitchy gray tabbies and cats of every shape and size. We looked at them all.

Took this picture within a week of adoption. Already making himself at home in my chair. <3

I found my cat near the middle of the room, and came back to him when we'd looked at everything else. He was the prettiest cat in the room. He had creamy fur with pale toasty tabby markings - "like a toasted marshmallow," said the shelter representative. His eyes were like blue glass. His nose and toebeans were perfectly pink. He was just about full grown at about a year old, and was around 13 pounds.

Such pretty eyes!

I spent some time near his cage. They opened the cage so I could reach in and pet him and let him smell me. He was so calm and so sweet, and I fell in love. I'd found my cat.

Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur ...

Some forms and $25 later, he was officially mine. Dolly did the driving on the way home so I could sit in the back seat with the carrier. We spent the drive discussing names. I wanted something literary again, and something that matched what I already knew of his personality: he was calm, and thoughtful, and respectable without being snooty. Dolly suggested "Watson" and it fit him perfectly.

"Respectable"

This has already been a very long post, so I'll save other stories and musings for another time, but here's a comic I drew to illustrate how life with my dear Watson is today:

As always, thank you for reading!

-Goosey

Valentine's Day: Then and Now

Once upon a time, while working at Disney World, a Bear from Maine met a Puddin' from Hawaii, and they fell in love.

First Valentine's Day

As Puddin' tells it:

Our first date was February 8th, the second date was the next day or day after. Third date was on the 11th, and that's when we had our first kiss. On the 12th I told his best friend that Bear was someone I could see myself marrying.

Valentine's Day was our 4th date. Bear brought me a giant box of Winnie-the-Pooh chocolates. We had dinner (I don't remember where), then we went to the Polynesian resort, walked on the beach, and sat in a gazebo or something and had the "where do you see yourself in 5 years" conversation. And we made out a lot and that's all I remember.

Our next Valentine's Day we were married for almost two months.

A pic from one of the early dates.

As Bear tells it:

Our first date we went to Cicis Pizza and saw Fantasmic. Our third date we watched IlluminNations: Reflections of Earth at Epcot. We smooched after the fireworks right outside "Italy". (At this point he looks at Puddin' and asks, "Was I into you at this point?" She answers, "We sure made out a lot.")

Our first Valentine's Day? I honestly can't remember!

She grew on me. It was nice to be needed and I liked her and every time we hung out it was fun. We just clicked. It made sense. We just have fun.

Bear always looks bored when he's having fun.

This Year 

As Bear tells it:

Lunch was AWESOME. We had tacos. I was gonna get her flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries but the store I ordered from ran out, so I'll get it for her a couple days later when the Valentine's crap is 50% off. The government doesn't get to tell me what day I need to love my wife.

As Puddin' tells it:

We went out to lunch on Valentine's Day itself, me and Bear and Papaya, and Papaya hogged Daddy. He stopped listening to me. It was like I was the third wheel on Bear and Papaya's date. He kept on gooshing about her, "Oh man, this is the best date ever!" and stuff like that. Then he asked permission to give me chocolates the day after, when they are on clearance.

On Friday Bear brought home flowers, then surprised me with a big box of Ferrero Rocher on the seat of the car. We went to eat at a new restaurant called Bocca and ate WAY too much. He ordered a carbonara pizza that came with an egg on it? Maybe it was supposed to be sunny side up but the white was only partially cooked. It was snot pizza. 😂😂 The waiter took it off our bill.

After dinner we went to Dave & Buster's and played all kinds of games. 

After Dave & Buster's we went to Walmart and picked out cards for each other and then put them back. Saved $10! 

Then we came home, sent the sitter home, checked on the babies, and played on our phones and then went to sleep. Ha ha.

As Goosey tells it:

So why did they have their date Friday instead of on Valentine's itself? Because they offered babysitting to some of their friends and neighbors! Wednesday night they had six extra kids (for a total of 10!) so that three other couples could enjoy their Valentine's dates. DaVinci and his buddy helped keep an eye on the younger kids. Isn't that an amazing service?

They also had me over. Puddin' presented me with a box of chocolates, and a tiny pink rose bush in a ladybug pot. I almost died from the cute. Then we all had hot dogs and pink pancakes for dinner!

GoosePuddin' hopes you all had a Happy Valentine's Day! 💗💗💗

Superbowl Picnic

So last weekend was the Superbowl.

It was the first time I'd watched it. 

Not that I'm not interested in football, I was raised on college ball: my parents' alma mater Brigham Young University! GO COUGS! If you are anywhere near my parent's house when the BYU Cougars are winning, you will know. My mom's victorious "WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" can be heard for miles.

Also, football has never been a Sunday thing for me. Again, it wasn't in our house growing up, so that's one of the things that has stayed with me as an adult.

It is different for my BIL, Bear. He's a die-hard Giants fan and watches NFL games every Sunday, often with his dad on the phone. So at Puddin's house, Superbowl Sunday is a kind of family holiday. They spread out a picnic on a sheet in the upstairs family room and attempt to enjoy a football game while trying to feed their four small uninterested children and keep them from getting food on the carpet.

Since I moved near them last year I was invited, and I had a pretty good time. Puddin' had provided a couple of pizzas (plain cheese for the kids), various chips and dips, cookies (some homemade by Bear), a veggie tray, and even soda, a holday-only treat which the kids were very excited for. She spread a large sheet over the floor to protect the carpet somewhat, brought up the paper plates and napkins, and we all settled in for a long football's match.

DaVinci happily drank his cream soda from a bottle he'd decorated as a football ref, complete with a little yellow flag in the pocket.

Three seconds after Slim got his plate with a slice of pizza, he'd tipped in exactly the right way for the pizza to land cheese-side down two inches from the edge of the sheet onto the carpet.

Deedle was excited for his mini-can of lemon-lime soda,  of which he took one sip and returned to his mother, declaring it "too spicy".

Papaya is not quite four and displayed the unsurprising lack of awareness of concepts such as "eat your food" and "stop dancing near the food" and "quiet, we're trying to watch football" that children her age are known for.

Needless to say, the famous Superbowl ads were impressive, as was the game itself, even though the Eagles won.

Looking forward to next year!

-Goosey

Spit It Out! : Stories of Yuck

Mmm, oil!

So one time I was babysitting for my cousin. It was dinnertime and the kids were all sat on stools at
the kitchen island. One of them saw the giant jug of vegetable oil on the counter. It was that weird
peachy-yellow color, and was in a plastic jug, so naturally they thought it was juice.

"I want juice!" they said.

"This? No, that's oil. You don't want it."

"Mmm, oil!"

I could see there was no way I was going to convince short people -- who could not yet tie their own shoes -- that oil was not a sweet delicious drink I was trying to keep away from them. 

I said, "Okay, I will give you a little bit to taste, and if you actually like it, I'll give you a little more."

When the expected sip of tasty juice turned out to be bland slimy oil, the children happily accepted their ice water.

Snitcher

Edamame is a delicious, healthy snack. My favorite way to eat them is in the pod, warmed up, and salted. I bite off the ends, suck out the beans from the salty pod, and discard the pods in a separate bowl.

One day at my cousin's house I was enjoying such a snack. My uncle walked in, and before anybody could say a thing, he snatched up a discarded pod, popped it into his mouth, and began chewing.

He was not pleased when I pointed out that a) the pod is not actually edible and b) it had already been in my mouth.

Too clean?

I bought some apples, and they had kind of a slick protective coating that I didn't feel like eating. I used hand soap to clean one off, and discovered far too late that I had not rinsed it well enough. I promise you that coconut mango hand soap, while it smells divine, tastes NOTHING like it smells.

AND NOW here is a video of us playing a game that is all about Yuck!