NaNoWriMo is going well. As you can see by my handy little widget if you’re reading this during November 2010, I am actually a bit ahead of the minimum schedule. Since this has also turned out to be a week full of amusing anecdotes, I thought I’d take a writing sabbatical from my writing sabbatical (is that even possible?) to write you a post of a few amusing happenings in my life since last week.
First, I sliced off the tip of my thumb while attempting to cut tomatoes with a dull knife. You heard it here first, folks–those nice sharp knives they demo in the cooking stores that can cut tomatoes like paper actually do serve a purpose. I always cringe when I hear my dad or my youngest sister tell me they’ve cut of the tip of a thumb or finger (yes, it is a recurring event in my family), but you know what? It’s not that bad. Really.
Second, John and I carved a pumpkin for the Deviant Art contest. Or rather, John spent two days carving and Dremeling a pumpkin and two gourds while I lounged on the couch knitting, watching Psych, and offering enthusiastic moral support. Credit where it’s due? I did hollow the gourds out, and most of the pumpkin. You can see Mork the Pumpkin on John’s Deviant Art page. (Poke around his gallery too–he’s got some neat photos up there!)
Mork continued to be a source of amusement. First, we displayed him for our trick-or-treater. Yes, I did mean that in the singular. Our entire giant bag of candy was visited by exactly one very polite ninja who refused our offers of a more generous handful. Second, apparently carved pumpkins have a very limited shelf life. Mork has been slowly collapsing in on himself like a zombie since Tuesday, but we only got rid of him today when we realize he was also an incontinent and moldy zombie pumpkin. It was…a disturbing cleaning task, to say the least.
Lastly, we found a flea on one of the cats. Do you remember that scene in Monsters Inc. where the monster has a sock on him and ends up shaved and collared by the monsters in hazmat suits? That’s about what played out here. The cats were, shall we say, not amused by what was possibly their first baby-style flea bath. John and I ended up soaking wet and smelling of minty laundry. This is apparently what qualifies as a “fresh” scent in pet soaps. Here are a few pictures of the event for your entertainment:
Lyra got the first bath, showing the worst signs of infestation. Here she is wet, bedraggled, and standing on her dignity as best she can.
Kali had markedly less patience with the process than Lyra. John is not so much petting her as he is preventing her from bolting.
It may not say much about John and I as human beings, but we were in stitches over how pathetic they looked…
…as evidenced by how long we kept them trapped in the bathroom so we could get a good photo. We did give them fuzzy catnip mice to comfort them in their trauma, and they are now so soft and fluffy that I’m thinking baths might become a more regular occurrence.
Work has been nothing but a run of hilarity and catastrophe this work, but I’m going to beg off on reporting the highlights. My fingers may have a bit more NaNoWriMoing in the yet today.