Back in the spring, our Masset cat Matilda gave birth to kittens, and it was awesome. She gave birth to them on Melissa's sweater, and then, in the night, carried them one by one to the basement, laying them out gingerly .... on our clean laundry pile. I woke up in the night at this point, hearing the desperate mew of kittens, and when I could only find Matilda bathing herself and smacking her chops menacingly, I came to the only logical conclusion available: MATILDA ATE HER KITTENS.

Obviously I was wrong, as was soon discovered on Kitten Hunt 2007. The next night, when I was almost asleep, I woke to the sound of meows again... Matilda had carried each one of her kittens up two flights of stairs to my room, which is where they stayed for the next month or so. Homes were found for all three kittens -- one to Max's friend down the block, and the other two to a fellow hospital employee, and all of them seem to be thriving. And are huge. Seriously, Matilda may have mated with a leopard. Or an Eagle. OR A LEOPARD EAGLE HYBRID. OH MY GOD, COOL.


Anyways, this is the entry I've had drafted in blogger since the kittens began.

Goodbye Kittens... Jax's black heart is secretly breaking inside.

The last of the kittens have gone to their new home and this house is now officially kitten free. A lack of kittens equates to a lot of disappointed neighbourhood children as our house was the most awesome place ever for a good 10 weeks. Because, besides our seemingly endless supply of perogies and Melissa's mean perogy cooking skills, we had three insanely adorable kittens roaming around the house... taunting Jax, stealing Jax's food, experiencing Jax's wrath in the form of glares from the stairwell and 10 minute growling sessions, letting Jax bathe them gently, gingerly when he thought no one was looking. He is an awesome stepfather. He believes in tough love, seasoned with just a few passing inclinations to feast on his stepchildren. Especially Goblin.

The kittens were born on March 22, 2007, and originally there were four. Little Neil Patrick Harris, TV's Doogie Howzer M.D., died a few days after being born. He had some problems from the get-go: a breached birth and an injured tail, he seemed the weakest of the four. We buried him under a tree in a friend's yard, after an impromptu service.

The other three kittens are happy and healthy! Violet (also known as Kleeborp) was sick for the first few weeks of her life and ... well. Let's be honest. She was really gross. But we pet her anyway and she grew out of it and turned out to be the most awesome kitten ever. Brian is kind of an asshole. Matilda let him nurse off her until the bitter end, partially because he demanded it. Secretly, Brian was always Matilda's favourite. Goblin was my favourite. Mysterious, aloof and black, Goblin has the spazziest meow I've ever heard and used to sleep curled up in my sweater.

So... Jax hates her and kept trying to eat her. Partially out of jealousy, mostly out of hunger. Jax craves the blood of kittens, but thankfully, Whiskas will do. ... For now.

Labels: Family, Nayture

Labels: Photographs

Blurb is a tool that allows you to make a book from your images, either on your computer, flickr, picasa, etc. All I can say is, SCORE.

Update: They have a fantastic idea on the site to make a Blog Book which is something I'm going to focus my energies on soon. Do any of you guys have any suggestions on which entries I should add to it?

Labels: Photographs, Projects, Shopping

I think I might have said it all in my title line.

Like, "Hey Neighbours. My Han Solo tshirt is so awesome that it doesn't even require pants."

I am dog and house sitting tonight. The wind is howling and it's been raining all day, and the house is very, very quiet, except for the occasional snuffle of a poodleish puppy, the tiny little waddle of a Norwich Terrier that looks kind of like a delightful footstool, and the gentle snores of a petite moppish type dog who bites your ankle when you try and leave the house.

Tonight is much quieter than last night, where in I SAW RADIOHEAD IN CONCERT. I also wore my crocs to the concert, and then squeaked obnoxiously the entire way home. Welcome to the Sounds of Vancouver at Night: Traffic, Random Wet Stabbings, Marijuana, Sarah Sovereign's Poor Choice In Footwear.

Radiohead was tremendous. It's probably the biggest concert I've ever been to, unless you count Nsync, which I'm not. Even though Justin Timberlake broke out a really great run on solo to express how God Must Have Spent a Little More Time On Me. And he totally did. Like, thanks God for that thing I can do with a toothpick, some string and five cottonballs.

Watching the sea of people in front of the stage was amazing... as was sitting in front of the douchebag who spent the entire concert going, "Oh my God. Thom Yorke is going to... oh.. oh he is Alice! He IS going to play Paranoid Android! Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGodThomYorke. SUPERB! HE IS A GOD. I knew he was going to play this. BECAUSE OF OUR UNSPOKEN CONNECTION."

I saw Feist a couple of weeks ago, and she knocked my socks off as well. She had everyone sing as Merpeople in Deer Lake Park, thereby confirming that she is just pretty darn fantastic. I bought a tshirt at the concert which I wore consecutively for like, three days after because I'm awesome. I changed into it at the concert inside of a dirty port-a-potti, which teetered threateningly. But hey. It's a Feist tshirt. Even tipped over inside a port-a-potti, I'm wearing the shit out of that fine garment. ... Or not.

I decided in that moment that I would start collecting tshirts from all of the concerts I attend, up until the minute I went to the store booth at Radiohead and discovered the tshirts there were fifty dollars and I can barely afford like, an expired, half opened kid sized Apple Juice found in the discount bin of a Salvation Army. Luckily, I see nothing wrong with making my own impressive Radiohead tshirt with an old white tshirt and a Mr. Sketch marker.

Neko Case is going to Vancouver in early September... I haven't bought tickets yet, but I'm thinking about it.

Labels: Adventures in Babysitting, Music

So I am leaving momentarily to head into Vancouver to pick up Laura! I like to refer to this as Laura 2008, as though there is no other explanation needed. Just one word to sum it all up, like Christmas.

I am pretty excited! Laura and I have not seen each other since last summer, when we had a stilted and awkward conversation somewhere in the vicinity of the old red shag carpet that used to make up my basement. Since then, much has changed. I can't help but reflect on all the awesome things we did and now have done, and I really think this will really be a Laura to Remember.

... Only the most astute of you will note my reference to the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers Christmas Album.

I have been babysitting great children all day, but am now mysteriously covered in yogurt ... how, I do not know. Children just seem to go hand in hand with yogurt and sticky hands and tubs of colourful, broken crayons.

-- Update! Laura is here safe and sound! Tomorrow, we begin adventures in the Fraser Valley... watch for pictures, Internet!

Labels: Adventures in Babysitting, Sarah Land