The Tiny Cat That Could

Once upon a time, an unusually tiny kitten walked into a yard. My yard.

Few of you are aware of the flag-bearing, card-carrying toxic relationship I have with my father. I’m so quiet about it, it’s hard to spot (cue eye roll). If I ever need a reason to give up humanity altogether, I can just look back to anything he’s done for affirmation. There are few things the man does that even surprise me anymore. But, as it turns out, he’s still got it. and by it, I mean the cruel, vicious, merciless, sadistic streak that is the most of his entire personality – at home, of course.

Four years ago, on a very rainy night, my father had to catch a flight to the airport, and the driver had to take the car out of the driveway. The itinerary was being discussed when suddenly, the tiniest imaginable of kittens stuck his head into our yard from under the looming black gate. The head and huge bat ears were followed by a skinny body and impossibly small paws. This furball essentially let himself into our courtyard, waltzed up to where four full grown humans and two adult cats were sitting, parked his butt in the middle, and MEOWED. Insistently at that, at the people staring incredulously at him, because we had two litters at home at the moment, but this wasn’t one of ours.

He was so covered in dirt that you couldn’t make out an actual color. He tried sitting with the adult cats, and they hissed at him and scooted up the stairs closer to us. The kitten was not the slightest bit affected by the snub and kept meowing at us, unfazed by the fact that he was in a strange place, standing between complete strangers. And he was hungry. Loudly.

We gave him a little wet food, and after he’d eaten, let himself onto the sofa, and gone immediately to sleep, decided that he must have been abandoned by some disappointed owner, or over-enthusiastic adopter. It wasn’t unusual for people to abandon animals in our yard. And we had nine cats at this point, what was one more mouth to feed. Especially such a tiny, tiny one at that. And so, Tiny became a member of the family.

The next few days went by with a series of discoveries. Tiny was a girl, apparently, and grey, white, and golden tabby under all the dirt. Which she didn’t allow us to wash off before a lot of coaxing. She had an attitude on her, walking up to all the other grown cats and batting them and hissing at them from the first day. If you sprayed her with water, she’d get down from the table, but scratch you before she walked away, because how dare you. My father’s smacks with the newspaper or his shoes were also returned in kind, sometimes immediately, sometimes hours later. Tiny could hold a grudge like no cat we’d known.

She also had epilepsy. She was maybe two months old when the seizures started. And then she stopped gaining weight, like the other kittens.

We didn’t know just quite what to make of her. I took her to the vet, naturally, and the vet advised a lot of tests, none of which the shabby, covered in animal piss government hospital had to offer. A private vet clinic was out of the question- even I wasn’t permitted to visit a doctor officially, and I literally worked as one. The vet suggested that we take care of her general health and hope for the best, but not hope too much from her either. So we did. We took care of her, we hoped, and we watched her grow.

Tiny grew from a stunted, ratty little tabby to a skinny, bony faced adult with twice the temper and half the situational awareness her kitten self had – but she grew. She survived whatever spectrum of neurological deficits she had, because she had a few. She was always falling into open barrels, down holes, getting lost in tunnels around the house, jumping onto the road or under moving cars, hyperactive to a point of mania, and then exhausted – and then running again. It was a joke, that the cat was practically suicidal – except she never made the same mistake twice. Her intelligence and unpredictability led her to actually get some grudging respect from my father, who found the fact that she tried to hit back surprisingly entertaining. We didn’t give a shit about why he liked her as long as he did, because she was outgrowing her seizures, and we were scared that he’d toss her out before she fully did.

Tiny Cat got older, and got pregnant. Her first pregnancy was completely confusing to her, but she managed it through, with us. The days leading up to her delivery, we showed her how to nest in a box, helped her get used to lying there. She kept trying to walk off even during her delivery, and was utterly baffled by the fact that a kitten had already come out, and more were there. At some point some instinct kicked in, but our next few nights were spent sleepless, taking shifts with the mewling furballs and there pretty frazzled mother. Luckily, luckily, the kittens pulled through. I saw them before I left home.

I heard stories of their misadventures, of these kittens that basically thought that my mother was their actual mother. It was ludicrous and hilarious. Tiny never taught her kittens how to cover up after they’d done their business, so they’d leave little smelly piles in the sand. At some point the other cats got so exasperated. they started covering up after them. And then they gave up and started just teaching the kittens how to cat themselves. They were actually learning pretty quick, and even started babysitting the other kittens, as they grew older. At least they did, till when we left home, My father took advantage of our absence, and had the kittens abandoned far away from home.

The thing is, with the decreasing number of helpless humans to torture over the last few months, my father has been turning to the cats. At first, he had the older kittens abandoned at our construction site, from where they naturally ran away scared. Then, the ‘training’ of the cats stuck at home began.

First, the cats were being trained to remain in one yard and not step into the other. A normal person would argue that cats can’t be trained that way. But when a cat is trapped in one place, the doors shut on it, and then hosed down with a power hose till she’s fleeing, digging her claws into cement to somehow scale the wall vertically to flee with slamming water, yes- according to my father, now that’s how cats are trained.

It doesn’t matter if one of them falls off the wall into the street and breaks her hind leg, because of this. It doesn’t matter if this cat walks three-legged, dragging her twisted leg and mangled hip behind her. She’s been trained now, and if she tries to come into the yard from the other side, where she doesn’t have to climb, she gets hosed again. And again. And again. Till she goes feral and stops coming, because the household help has more mercy in their hearts than my father, and they started feeding her outside on the sly.

And then the other cats are taught lessons. Till even the cook, the meekest, most soft-spoken woman I know, couldn’t bear to watch anymore and stoutly protested that at least the cats be allowed to run through one door when the hosing begins. Obviously, her opinion doesn’t mean shit. When my father gets his manic attacks, even the help working in the yard got hosed. Why the heck would he care? They’re his servants, after all. It’s not like they’re real people or something.

Just like the cats aren’t actual livings beings. Or anything more than a temporary fixation for his cruelty. I’m not at home, he can’t make sure I’m waking up at 4 am anymore, or make me do sit ups at his whim, or monitor my food, or lash out as and when he wants at me. He tried with the watchman, but after two days of being forced to get up at 4 am, the watchman bluntly made it clear that he was going to quit under these conditions. The other household help scurry and tiptoe around his always-impending rage and righteousness, which is exactly the way he likes it. Besides, it’s Corona times. If they quit, he isn’t going to find anyone else to do the housework for him. They’re staying on out of desperation too, because it’s unlikely that they find another job with the way things are. He knows that, and he stops pushing them just before their breaking point. With the cats, he doesn’t need to stop.

The last puppy he brought home died about a month after I left. There’s another dog now, but she’s being taken care of, because even he’s starting to get a reputation among his friends who supply the dogs. And then there’s Tiny. Tiny Cat who got pregnant again, and isn’t allowed to stay at home this time. Who wasn’t even allowed to be in the yard- but she didn’t know that. She spent the last few weeks trying repeatedly to come home, and got slammed and hosed down with punishingly hard water jets each time she tried. She snuck in at night, and ate and slept in the other yard. She didn’t understand why she was suddenly cast out, and scratched at the doors and windows, asking my crying mother to let her in. The cook hid her under her arm and smuggled her out each time she could, before my dad could notice that she’d come in again. My mom stopped walking in the yard at all, for fear of attracting the cats, who’d flock to her if they saw her at all. My father would come running in, bolt the doors, and hose them down till they were scrambling around desperately in the mud. Till he was satisfied that they’d had enough of a lesson for today. But that stopped being enough, too.

My father decided last week that Tiny had to go. It didn’t matter that she was due any day. It didn’t matter that she was spending more time wet than dry. She was surviving his currently favorite method of torture, and persisting- and he doesn’t like that. Bear in mind that this is a man who used to trap rats to kill and pour boiling water over them, till my mother gave him proof that was Islamically forbidden. And nothing is more important than a pretense of holiness. But that pretense is still wafer thin. A heavily pregnant cat who had started digging holes in the dirt… wasn’t in any place to fight what was behind that. But help came from the unlikeliest place.

Our watchman caved and decided to take her away. He took her to that construction site, where he knows the family of caretakers, where he knew she’d be safe. It broke him, having to coax her away and leave her there, but she found a hidey hole right away. He went to visit her twice, and she seemed settled in. They leave food out for the cats, and there’s enough space for her to roam. My father was delighted to see her gone. Everyone else is relieved for different reasons.

I’m sitting here wondering who’ll be next, and what will happen when he runs out of animals. I keep thinking of her earnest little face and stubborn, stubborn refusal to give up, and am trying to reassure myself that this truly is the best that could have happened for her. But Survivor’s guilt is a potent beast. And I can’t help but feel, at least a little bit, that in choosing what’s best for me and leaving, I failed my Tiny cat, at least a little.

Satan’s Spittoon (And Other Things Rant-worthy)

See, on your day off, you want to do the opposite of things. You want to do NOT things.




Things include parties. Parties are fun when they’re gatherings of like minded people, together for laughing and joking and sometimes, for showing off the new furniture- sometimes. Parties are not fun when you have to endure them for any reason. Which is why I  flopped down on the ground in front of my mom and threw a loud, wailing tantrum about how I don’t want to go to my stupid cousin’s stupid house and be nice to stupid people.



But, as expected, I wore stinking pretty clothes and went. At least there would be cake, I consoled myself.

There was no cake.

Five hours of talking about clothes, husbands, and the weather later, I have survived, and I am home.

There is a special place in Hell for cousins who hand you their squalling toddlers and run away, leaving you to wrestle a baby you haven’t seen since his intrauterine life.

Satan will bathe in the contents of his spittoon the women who chase you around parties asking why you haven’t gotten married yet.

I’m going to put my pjs on, then I’m going to go sterilise my face because someone’s kid BIT MY FACE. While the mother watched. And then she told me how precious it is that he learnt to that, while the kid hopped off my lap and chewed her toe. My dogs are literally more well behaved than that.




Parties like these are why I have a bottle of whiskey hidden under my bed. I need a damned stiff drink.


I like kids, but if you’re raising brats, remember- they’re not ah-dawwrable to anyone except you.




On that note, I’m going to pass out. And if any of you haven’t read this yet, I highly recommend you do. The Oatmeal is always good for a laugh. 🙂






Cookie ❤

The Best Ever Backyard Picnic!!!



My bonkers backyard has lately been invaded by an entirely welcome presence. Since the past week or so, a mixed sort of flock of birds has been showing up every day to scrounge for crumbs in the yard. Now, ‘tiny’ is almost a misleading term. The lot of them, about 10-15 birds, are a nice assortment of what google tells me are Wrens and Warblers, with the occasional sparrow tagging along. They’re barely palm sized (and if you’ve seen my hands you know how tiny that is!). They more than make up for it in sheer insistence though. Singing and chattering and arguing and basically being as noisy as it’s humanly possible to be, starting mid morning to well into the day.  It’s rather adorable really, but I’m going to say that very, very quietly, ’cause my cats are sitting right here looking very disgruntled and feeling sorry for themselves.

It turns out that the birdbrains, whom I’ve named The Twits, have quite a wicked sense of humor. They’ve been driving the cats fairly insane all week long.  Not only do they flit about their heads in a tempting way that drives the kitties hopping mad, but they know what they’re doing too. Two of them simultaneously dive bomb the confused kitty, or one of them swishes by in the middle of a pounce, completely throwing the cat off. They know exactly what they’re doing, with all these cunning aerial tactics. I swear, the day the cats get organized too, there’s going to be a full blown war in my backyard.

Well, as it happens, today there weren’t so many crumbs to be found in the little corner where the flock… flocks.  Not that it saddened them, they just argued more insistently and a couple flew into the house too (Bird mafia, I tell you… ). So Mum decided that she’ll throw them a picnic party, and she sprinkled an assortment of omnoms near the corner of the Brook  (it’s  a trickle running across the yard but very there despite it’s size). So! Food, fresh flowing water, a pile of twigs to play in and a low hanging branch. Bring on the festivities!!!! =D





Oh and as if they weren’t enough, the commotion brought a wee mouse out from somewhere.  He was supremely unconcerned, walking through the birds to his choice of food and scurrying back to the twigs to eat them. I caught him washing up later too. 🙂




So! That was my impromptu backyard picnic!  Hope you liked it!!! =D

Oh and this was the evening sky. The weather’s just been too beautiful to resist clicking. 🙂


Lemonade and cheers!

Cookie ❤

Another Point of No Return






Oh boohoo, there’s children dying in Africa every day, it’s not such a big deal, it’s just a pet”. 


Well fuck you. I know there’s children out there, I know there’s bad things happening. It doesn’t mean that I’m not going to grieve for my little one. t doesn’t mean this isn’t as real for me. I struggled to keep him alive these past two months. He was abandoned, barely ten days old, in my yard and I fought for him every day, feeding him, bathing him, getting his meds into him on time. I fucking fought for him so, so hard, when i didn’t have the strength to spare, I didn’t have the love to spare in the first place. And he still died. He still died in my lap, and I watched him die. I held him wrapped in my sweater and watched him stop breathing, stop moving, stop living, and he went watching me. And I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sick of everything I love dying or leaving me, I’m sick of every one I love loving me in the wrong way or for the wrong reasons, I’m sick of having to try so, so hard each time for so little. For so little in return, for so little respite, for so little reprieve, I’m sick of this, 



You’ll be okay, just be patient.. give yourself time to heal..”. 



I can’t be patient. I can’t be anything. I can’t feel anything more than a massive bruise, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s not going to be okay. It’s always going to be like this. Things have always been hard, and they promise not to let up any time soon. I just don’t know if I can do all this alone anymore…



You have to be brave…” 


I know, I know I do. It’s just getting so fucking difficult to keep it together each single time something happens. And each successive time, it takes something smaller to break me. I don’t know how long this can go on. Even if I try to keep together, even as I’m trying to keep it together, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I don’t know how to be strong anymore.



You’ll learn from this. Some day. you’ll look back and be glad you had these moments…”



No. I won’t. I honest to God won’t.  I’m sick of learning, knowing, understanding.  




Be brave, you’re a strong girl. You’ll forget this, soon enough..”


I won’t. I’ve been down this road too many times. I know precisely when life gives way to death. I’ve seen that glow fade too many times. the clammy touch, the undefinable coldness. That waxy stare. I know, I’ve known death too many times, too closely. Too intimately. Death smells. I smell of death. I reek of death. The rust and salt of blood, the sweetish sour stench of rot, of pain, of hurt, of everything wrong in the world, of everything wrong in my life. I can’t clean myself of it. And I can’t wash it off my skin. I just want to peel every god damn inch off. I can’t fucking get it off me.



“But dying is a part of life.. Everyone has to go some day…”



I know. I know too well. But what if I don’t want to live like this anymore at all?




You know every thing is going to be alright…. You will be alright…  don’t you, angel?”



I know…  



I know I will….

Purple Apples and the Clumsy Oaf


Purple Apples

Today I want a purple apple
With blued and golden leaves
No green or red or yellowed brown
Those lot are my pet peeves!
Want it washed in river water
Want it cubed and not diced
Kept undisturbed, and not plucked
Neither skinned nor sliced
Hanging from a freight air liner
Delivered by stork
Male or female doesn’t matter
With its special spork.
So that apple will be dinner
For which my heart will sing
Otherwise, I’ll have to stew
Pink cabbages and kings!

© CM

Hey everyone!

An odd but fitting poem for what is quickly shaping into an odd day. If I’m to believe Due Date, things can only go uphill, but erm, I’m a little sceptical.. o_O

Got up early ish with a smile on my face and a short lived spring in my steps. Step. Singular. The first bouncy step off the pillows landed me feet first into the kids’ bowls of milk and cat food, suspiciously, booby trappishly, next to the bed.

Mopped up the crazy spill, took three wiping sessions to clear it up. Was getting up when I hit my back nice and hard on the corner of my study table. Yep. Ouch. Very.

Proceeded to do the Kangaroo Dance of Agony into the living room, simultaneously screaming in pain and laughing at the absurdity of it all. The cats watched half detached, half bemused, and the new addition to the house, Le Pigeon, started hopping around in alarm as well.

Sympathy? Nah. Le sister found it appropriate to remark that I wasn’t going to get married any time soon. Clearly I’ve yet to make it to my teens.

Ah well. There’s still morning coffee and muffins to look forward to. 😦

Cheers to you all!

Cookie ❤

It looks a lot like… Rain!!!!




It Looks a Lot Like…. Rain!!



So many clouds are overhead
It almost looks like night
The distinct lack of shadows is
A disconcerting sight,
You’d think that noon is hotter and
The temperature’s insane,
But you’d really never guess it,
It looks so much like rain!


The yard is full of stretching cats
Eyeing me balefully
When the first of the drops will land
(Rain is such a bully)
They’ll be turfed off into the house
Chorussed yowling refrain
The cats aint got no place outside
When it will start to rain


The dog and me are perfectly
Happy to jump about
Him barking and me, barking mad
(hey, who let the dogs out?)
Already my pajamas have
Paw prints and grassy stains
But madness is forgivable
When it’s so much like rain!


The sky is full of steel wool that’s
Buffetted here and there,
The crazy wind’s pushing us all
Without giving a care
The leaves are all whistling about
Falling on roofs and drains
And all the trees are dancing too,
Look! It’s starting to rain! =D







Day 20 of NaPoWriMo! There’s an amazing prompt today, but I’d already written this so heeeeere we are! 🙂


Also, as promised, here are my questions for my Liebster Award nominees! 🙂



1. Why do you write, and when did you first start writing seriously?

2. What are your favorite books and authors, and why?

3. What is your favorite color?

4. Who was your first crush? (Oh yes, I’m very nosy) 😛

5. What was the last thing you saved up to buy? Unless you’re loaded, in which case, what was the last thing that you were excited to buy?

6. What do you like most about yourself?

7. If there was something you could change about the world, what would it be?

8. Who would you say changed your life, by coming into it or leaving it?

9. What is your most precious possession?

10. Tell us a secret about you. A personal quirk or naggy habit that no one knows. 🙂

11. If there is something that you could’ve written, any book or poem or short story, which one would it be and why?


Aaaand that’s all, folks! Have a great day! 😀





Cookie ❤

Rhymes of No Consequence


Hey all!!

Okay I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of rule according to which I have to warn you beforehand. Beyond this point is sheer nonsense. Nothing but twitspeak. It’s all a giant lollapalooza! (See? I told you there’s no sense today!) If there was a limerick written about this poem it would read something like this-

Balderdash, Baloney and Bull

Gibberish, Poppycock, they pulled

Lunacy and Twaddle,

They all went a-waddle,

And came back with armfuls of wool!

But Mister Wool happened to mind

This zany gobbledygookie find!

He clapped them in leashes

And called the Polices

When they hit him, he payed in kind!!

Today’s prompt  is a genius spark of madness. Sheer lunacy abounds in an empty head when presented with such freedom. Therefore, I blame NaPoWriMo for all the nuttiness, and I am not accountable for it. To be on the safer side, if you have even a drop of  Icelandic blood in you, I suggest you steer clear. Don’t want anyone screaming bloody murder and stabbing with an icicle. 😮

The plan is something like this. The first column is the original poem SKAGAFJÖRÐUR  by  Gerður Kristný, untranslated, and dare I say, untarnished.

The next column is my ‘translation’  of the poem, what it looks and sounds like ‘translated’ into english. It makes very little sense but it was so much fun. The sheer insanity was fun!!


Ég reyni að vera
alúðleg við börnin
svo þau hirði um leiðið mitt
þegar þar að kemur
mylji köku ofan í grasið
á afmælinu mínu
og fari með ljóðið um
fingruðu kýrnar
þá sjálf orðin gömul og grá

Samt á ég eftir að
þekkja þau aftur 
á himneskri húsalyktinni

alltaf skulu þau ilma eins og Jesúbarnið

© 2007, Gerður Kristný
*ahem* *koff koff*

Scarf of Yellow

Eggs runny, and aloe vera
Elude a leg via Borneo
So, for hire, I’m leaving Mitts,
Beggars par lemur,
My liege Cuckoo! Often in grass
Of my lane, you and me know,
Oh, far I’m jaded from
Fins growing in corners,
Pah! Shelves are one gormless order.

Saint o’ Eggs, after you
Peck your dough; After
a hymnesque ‘scree’ (Who’s I-like-tins??) ,

All taffy schools will pour eggs on Jaegerbombs.



Aaaaand to round off the number to an even three, here’s a rhyme of no consequence at all! ‘Cause, you know, it’s a rhyme of no consequence.


A Rhyme of No Consequence

There was a wood, oh where they stood
The lanes were full of rain
Their stammering like hammering
A caning of the brain

A fist of sand running from hand
Slow stream of sifted dreams,
That was the brand of all the land
The scheming in the theme

Wasn’t to say, to run away
With what the lots forgot
Mumbled and mimed, so over time
The Bots could show some thought

And in the loud clamoring crowd
There’d be a fence of sense
Thus there would birth, though not much worth
No rhymes of consequence.


Do let me know of what you think, of any or all of the above!! The next post will be approximately ten minutes after this one! That’s right folks, a double dose of cookies today!! 😀


Cookie ❤

The Voice of Whiskers


Finally! A post of my own!! Hoo’s in charge now? 😀


Note: All matter submitted today is propurrty of Mister Whiskers. Le Cookie Monstah is .. shall we say.. indisposed… *muahahahaha!!!* >=D



The Voice of Whiskers


Ah, you bore me, all of you
With your incessant chattering,
All this is simply much ado,
Don’t you know, without me, nothing
Matters at all, why, my hairball
Has more significance than, say
That messy furry four legged mutt
You take out for walks every day

You think that you’re so big, so tall
Ha, you think you’re lord of the house
You live in my territory and
Have worth no more than a mouse
You think yourself so smart, human,
Try to feed me fake tuna tins?
I dare you to replace my noms
I’ll puke everywhere but the bin!

What’s that you say, get off the couch?
Oh please, it’s time to manicure
My claws, so don’t be such a grouch
How much nagging must I endure?
‘Get off the laptop!’ ‘My tv!!!’
‘Mister Whiskers! Come on down here!’
‘Who has pooped in the living room?’
And ‘what’s that ripping sound I hear?’

Really human, you do forget
What your place is, it’s at my feet,
You’re but a subservient pet,
Just meant to cuddle on your knees
When you aren’t feeding me or
Fetching me a new tasty treat,
So look sharp! And get up now!
I need to lounge but on your seat!

Oh I suppose, I can be kind,
As a species, somewhat evolved
Further along the line than you,
I know your dreary lives revolve
Around the wonder that is me,
All magnificent white whiskers,
Framed in the sheen of furred glory
I guess I could be less brisker

Oh fine, alright, come pick me up
You may hold me in your warm lap,
But, if you dare stop rubbing,
Ill bless you with a scratch and snap.
Do go and fetch my catnip toy,
We have some purring work to do,
I know you love me, heart and soul
For that I may deign to love you.



©CM, for MW



Ahem. I temporarily have my laptop back, but one of their royal Hignesses will be needing it back soon. Day Fourteen of NaPoWriMo, and today was absolutely the most fun so far, since the prompt let me kick back and let some one else take over. I have nine little fuzzballs, with some visitors, so I’m a certified crazy cat lady. To be the extent that my dog’s almost a crazy cat lady too. We know who’s in charge, and so do they. 😛 



I’m being chased off again. Apparently there’s a gallery of pictures to be posted, for hoomins not quick enough to catch the message in the words. And obviously, that includes me too. 


Like these, for instance. 




Yes hoomin, we saves your lives every day.




Sure, you can try to tell us what to do. Never gonna work anyway..




You feeds us toona and nothing but toona!!!



We wuvs anything we feels like, except you.



Oh okay, fine. Sometimes we luv you too. 🙂


Lots of purrs to you, 


Cookie and Mister Whiskers ❤ 



The Morning Ride


The Morning Ride


Out the moving train window I see
The trees nodding, waving away merrily.
Branches dotted with so many many greens
That no artist could ever have thought of, or seen,
A red brick house uphill standing tall
Daubed all year round in the colors of fall,
Wide open endless blue reaches of sky,
Cotton woolly fluff bunnies up high,
A lone white sheep grazing in the lush grass,
Rows of chrysanthemums on the overpass,
The odd car pulling up aside in the lane,
Companions for a moment and then lost again,
A spatter of rain from a mischievous cloud,
Spanked by the wind and then properly cowed,
Blows away giggling quiet as a feather,
A part of today and then lost forever.


Okay so I cheated a bit. I didn’t take a walk, as the prompt suggested. But the next best thing was a connecting train ride with an amazing view, so here you have it!  🙂

Love and light,

Cookie ❤

PS.  We hit 250 followers yesterday, and by happy coincidence it was also our fiftieth post. Fifty!!! I feel like an extra caffeinated cat on catnip!!!


Thanks so, so much guys!!! PARTY TIME!!!!      😀 😀 😀 😀 😀




well, cake anyway! =P

So cake and hugs all around!!! Two Hundred and Fifty of them!!!! 😀 😀

Weekly Challenge: Pitter Patter Raindrops – A Day in My Life

Before I jump in, this post is in response to the Weekly Photography Challenge, and this is basically what I look like….


From here onward the photos I’m posting are from my hush hush real world (*shhhh!!*) With a few memes thrown in, because I’m a hopeless cat picture spammer (oh my friends will attest to that, I’ve got one for every occasion). Not to mention that I’m pretty sucky at taking pictures. Other than screenshots. With screenshots, I am king!!! The topic this week is that we’re supposed to show a day of our life, and I have just the perfect poem for today too! So here goes!!

Today’s been good so far. Got up really early, fairly ravenous since I had an early dinner last night. However I was firmly in the mood for something unhealthy. It’s Saturday! I’m not planning on doing anything that’s good for me, nuh uh. Today shall be resplendent, decadent and a wee bit lazy… Yep!

This is my breakfast, cinnamon rolls and coffee with a splash of Hershey’s in there.


Omnomnom. But this is what I was really eating like.. =P


I hadn’t planned much for today, except kicking back. After a heavy duty exam week I needed some serious mental detox. Went out and ran a few errands, and then when I got home, a friend wanted to meet up for breakfast. Proper breakfast, lol. Followed by a movie marathon at another friend’s place. Yay!

This is my outfit for the day. My favorite shirt, and a my recent acquisition. Beige suede boots!!


Headed out with my friend, and surprise surprise!! It started raining!!!! So I dug up one  of my older poems for you all, that was just so fitting!! =D

Pitter Patter Raindrops

Pitted patter raindrops falling from the sky
Landing on my cheek n making my spirits fly!
Landing on my nose, n trickling down my chin
Pitted patter raindrops wetting me to my skin!.. 
Piles of fluffy white clouds crowded in the stormy grey
Little rainbows smiling from each peeking pale sunray =)
Walls of spray drenching me as the cars go zooming past!!.. 
I splash! In every puddle n giggle while I cross!.. 
Drops of crystal dew, silver blue, clinging to each flower…
Away with winter cobwebs, let’s welcome the summer showers!.. 
Pitted patter raindrops falling in the pouring rain.. 
And now that I’m all dry I’m gonna go get wet again!!..
=D =D
Well, so change of plans and we headed back to my house, and this is what my yard looks like right now! As one of my friends would say, it rained diamonds!! =D
 you can see part of the tiny natural stream that runs around in my backyard
And this is what the view is, from my window! Green supreme! 
Aaaaand that’s what my day’s been like today. I’m going to hit the books for a bit now (yes on my day off. I’m a nerd and proud!  =P ) I’m leaving you with this absolute gem I found.
Yes yes I’m awful. Toodles for now! =D
Cookie ❤