Various and Sundry.

Load the kids into the car. Take them to the thrift store. Avoid the toy aisle and still end up fighting over whether they need more books or not. Find something spectacular that won’t fit in the cart so allow the nice thrift store employee to take it up to the counter. Worry for the next ten minutes that someone is going to steal it out from under you; cutting the store visit short is not an option, however, because there could be something else incredible there. Argue with one of the babies about whether he can use The Big Potty in the store or whether he can hold it until we get home. Get in a looooong line. Wait ten minutes, placating two toddlers the entire time. Get to the front of the line. Reach in your purse and realize, the second you do, you left your wallet at home, by the computer. Ask them to keep your items until you get back (and tuck them farther behind the counter than the clerk does, just in case). Take the now-whiny toddlers back out to the car. Strap them in. Go back home. Take the toddlers out of the car. Take one of them to the potty as he so admirably held his bladder out of fear of The Big Potty. Grab the wallet. Load the kids back in the car. Drive to the thrift store. Haul them back in. Wait in another long line. Triumphantly walk out of the store with this.  For $9.99. 

Viko Baumritter Danish Modern side table. It’s great, right? I’m not just imagining it? Because, frankly, the whole mid-century thing usually leaves me pretty cold. Spare, clean lines are not my thing. But the legs…and the lovely lines of the table…and the grain of the tabletop…make me swoon. I really love it.

Also got these things.

My whole stack looks a little mid-century/industrial. Weird for me.

So, our little kitty, Frankie,  is missing. She has been an inside cat since we brought her into our apartment in Chicago, around seven years ago, on a snowy Thanksgiving morning. She was tiny, and had been haunting our back porch for weeks. We thought she was a kitten. She was cuddly, and would sit on my lap for long spans of time out on the back porch. We had a pretty big snow early on that year, and didn’t see her for around three days; I was worried, and told Justin that we would have to bring her inside if we saw her again because I didn’t think she could survive a Chicago winter. She showed back up, we bullied her inside, and that was that. As it turns out, she was around three or four years old so had apparently managed the Chicago winters on her own just fine, thank you very much, but she settled in to inside life pretty quickly. She has always been very scared around strangers, and when the toddlers were born, she had a rough time of it. Then our other cat, Dino, had to be put to sleep right before we moved, and she really hadn’t been very happy since that happened. The move further discombobulated her, and as the twins got more and more aggressive and mobile her life got more and more difficult. Right before I left for the family funeral, I finally suggested we let her outside, and have her be an inside/outside cat. We live on a cul-de-sac, where there is hardly ever any traffic, and it seemed like an ideal solution, especially since she was expressing her displeasure at her current living situation by joining the children in pooping and peeing all over the house. When I got back, a day later, Justin hadn’t seen her for about eight hours; prior to that, she had been hanging around the house. At this point, she’s been gone for two nights. We’re leaving her food and water on the front stoop and there is some food missing, but who knows who or what is eating that. Now I can’t believe I ever made the decision to let her outside — she’s such a small thing, and skittish about so many things. Though I really did think she would be happier outside, where she could get away from the chaos that is happening at all times inside, the decision was really born of exasperation — CAN EVERYONE JUST PLEASE STOP PEEING ALL OVER MY HOUSE. So I feel guilty for making a snap decision based on frustration. I’ve been riding my bike around the neighborhood but can’t find her anywhere…we live down the street from a golf course, and it just looks so massive and immense, it makes me think she could be anywhere. Plus, our backyard butts right up against a VERY dense wooded area.

This is the view right over our fence. The vegetation is about chin height, and thick as can be, and I braved it yesterday when a neighbor said her cats sometimes hang out back there. I put on long sleeves and leggings and wore my Uggs in about 90 degree weather and fought my way back about 100 yards, with no luck. I did get within about 25 yards of an old, old barn that’s back there — along with what looks to be some ancient farm implements. Barn wood? Rusty tools? You can bet I’m going to drag Justin back there with me the next time my Mom is in town to stay in the house with the kids. Anyway, I’m holding out hope that she’s just exploring and will be back. If you have stories of cats that were gone for days and days and still returned, they are most welcome. 

Out on the back porch, a spider has set up residence on a huge web.

Because the Internet is an awesome place, I know that it is an everyday garden spider, and that this is a male, as designated by its weird zig-zaggy web. We try not to kill spiders, or destroy their webs, around here. We favor the catch and release program when we find bugs inside. I think I tend a little Buddhist on that issue. So he’ll be staying out there as long as he wants to.

The kids got sunglasses at the thrift store visit — orange stickers, so half off. They felt so cool with them on.

It’s like the director yelled “cut!” right before this one.

I suppose I have rambled long enough. Hope you have a great weekend ahead of you.

Linking to The Nifty Thrifty on A Living Space. 

Editing to add: Frankie came home last night and is no worse for wear! So yay!