Part I -- A Rather Remarkable Breakfast
Kyle is currently working the night shift. So when he came home on Saturday, it was seven o'clock in the morning and time for breakfast. We proceeded to the kitchen for a delicious (and not so nutritious) bowl of Lucky Charms. Half way through my bowl I glanced out the window and spotted a little yellow dot in the sky. Upon closer examination, said dot transformed into a hot air balloon.
"Hey, look," I said, interrupting what I'm sure was a very deserving story.
"What?" he said. Then he spotted the aforementioned balloon. "Oh, huh. That's cool." And then he proceeded with his story as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later a little red dot floated along next to the yellow one. "Hey! Look!" I interrupted the story again. Before long, tons of balloons were gracefully gliding across the sky in a more-or-less straight path. I have no idea what Kyle was telling me, or if he ever got the story out, but I do have some photos of the hot air balloon parade. It was hard to capture just how incredible it really was. (The balloons were too high up for really spectacular photos.) We watched the whole thing from the kitchen window over the span of about an hour as these little (but actually big) decorated balloons popped up one by one (and sometimes two by two) over the roof of our building. Have a look:
Part II -- A Series of Unfortunate Pet Related Events
By a string of strange coincidences, our current host has recently come into the possession of Mr. Fatty Lumpkins (an incredibly large cat) and a dog without a proper name (who Kyle and I call Lucy.) Mr. Fatty Lumpkins was here first. Lucy arrived last Friday. Both are friendly and lovable...so long as they're kept apart. So, to smooth things over, Mr. Fatty Lumpkins has been staying in mine and Kyle's room, safely out of reach of the dog.
However, on Saturday, shortly after the hot air balloon phenomenon, Lucy wormed her way around me and into the cat's territory. At first we thought they might actually be getting used to one another. The cat laid under the bed and the dog laid at the foot of it, tail wagging. But then Mr. Fatty Lumpkins decided to make a run for it. Lucy took up the chase.
Mr. Fatty did the first thing he could think of, leaping onto the dryer (which is in the bathroom) and inflating to three times his normal rotundity. Lucy, of course, did the only thing she could think of and started barking like mad, dodging the poor kitty's claws.
Now, please recall that it's about 8:30AM and Kyle has yet to get any sleep. Obviously, letting them bark/claw it out was not an option. So Kyle, sweet as he is, decided to rescue Mr. Fatty. He picked him up with little resistance, but when he attempted to leave the bathroom the cat caught one glimpse of the dog beneath him and proceeded to take all appropriate escape action. Which consisted of clawing his way onto Kyle's head.
When the screaming and louder barking and little kitty yowling started I figured I'd better investigate. I found the dog in the hall and Kyle and the cat locked in the bathroom. "Sweetie?" There was complete silence in the bathroom. "Kyle? Are you okay." Muttering, and then: "I'm fine. Just stay in there."
So I took Lucy to the living room and tried to calm her down. And just as I thought I was succeeding, the bathroom door clicked open and several things happened at once: Lucy's eyes widened at the prospect of reaching the cat; I jumped up abruptly and grabbed at her collar; the bathroom door clicked shut again; and Kyle appeared around the corner of the hall. Lucy was so overwhelmed by the excitement (and scent of cat) that she tripped over her own front paw, flopped onto the floor, and proceeded to pee on my foot. ON. MY. FOOT. (I was not a happy camper.)
As I'm yelling at the top of my lungs in disgust Kyle is yelling in outrage about the cat, and I don't think at that point either of us knew what happened to the other. But there was a lot of yelling. Poor Lucy just laid there between us looking deflated. I stomped off to the shower, Kyle stomped off to assess his wounds, and Lucy just drooped her poor little head and looked at the puddle.
After my foot was clean (eeeeew) I locked Mr. Fatty safely in the bathroom away from the dog and went to see what happened to Kyle. He was still fuming. "I HATE cats." That's the first distinct thing I remember hearing. After that I caught sight of blood dripping off his elbow and forming little pearls on the side of his face. I think I might have missed a few lines of the rant then. I tuned back in for, "We are not having pets. Not until we are home with a house and a yard. I am not getting a dog, and you are not getting a cat, and we are both going to have to deal with it." I think my eyes were probably the size of saucers. I just nodded.
Two days later, Mr. Fatty Lumpkins still hasn't gotten up the courage to leave the dryer, and we still haven't mustered the nerve to try and move him. Below are photos of the culprits.
Luckily for them, they're cute enough to earn forgiveness.
Part III -- Fun in the...Cloudiness
The photos are kind of self-explanatory here. But in case you need a hint: We went to a lake with friends yesterday.
Note that we girls were sensible and stayed out of the shenanigans.