Of course, we don’t know if Halloween is Salem’s actual birthday, but that’s when we decided it would be a few years ago when he came to our family. If a black cat’s birthday isn’t on Halloween, then it should be changed so it is.
Here is Jeremy taking a break from school, listening to A Wrinkle in Time, with Salem tucked in at his side.
And here he is begging me to finish my Literary Theory outline so we can hurry up and go to sleep. My late-night writing is highly inconvenient. I hope Halloween isn’t a total washout, but there’s a chance we won’t make it outside at all due to rain. Still, we’ll be spending the evening with friends, which is better than trick-or-treating anyway. I’ll post pictures tomorrow.
This mischief happened earlier in the week. I considered it a challenge of authority:But then this happened shortly after, and then I was reminded of who’s really in charge:In other news, I saw something on Pinterest that I had to try. Actually, there are dozens of things on Pinterest that I’d like to try, but this seemed doable. Instead of tossing my romaine lettuce cores in the garbage, I stuck them in water and placed the glasses on the window sill. I was surprised to discover that the lettuce leaves actually grew back.
They aren’t spectacularly long lettuce leaves, and it’s taken a while for them to grow, but nonetheless it worked.
And finally, I got word today that the insurance claim to cover Jeremy’s hearing aid was denied. This is a very expensive denial, so I will be putting on my boxing gloves and going into the ring to fight it.
A few nights ago, on the eve on Chuck going out of town, I let out a big sigh, groaned in exhaustion, and jokingly asked, “So which kid are you taking with you tomorrow?”
He paused, then answered, “Salem.”
Yes, after three months of wrangling a blue tick puppy and nearly ten years of parenting, even Chuck prefers Salem, which is how I always knew it would be. He finally sees it my way.
Salem may be fat and irritable, but he is the most fabulous little being in this family. He doesn’t require much from us and he occasionally brings us presents. The boys love asking me to rank everyone in order of who I love the most and I answer consistently with, “Your dad, then Salem, and you two are tied for third.” It makes them laugh, they know I’m (mostly) kidding, and they’ll ask me to say it again a few days later.
But seriously. He’s awesome.
What about Major, you ask? Yeah, he’s on the list. Somewhere near the bottom. Because when he’s not scratching my legs or chewing a Galactic Hero or barking at nothing, he’s doing this:
Salem is the only one with power in this house. He is the boss of us, particularly of Major, and now that the dog has started howling and baying, Salem is having none of it.
It all begins with this adorable face:
And then he starts this nonsense:
Salem is usually napping comfortably until he is disturbed:
And then he’s just pissed:The boys continue to have fun with their houseguest, though my little Jack is often excluded. I remember what it feels like (Becky) to be unwelcome in my older sister’s bedroom (Becky) when she had friends over to visit. I adored my sister (Becky) and she mostly liked me, until she had a sleepover, and then I was no longer worthy to be included (Becky). I’m not pointing fingers or anything (Becky) but rather acknowledging the natural order of things when you’re the youngest child. I clearly harbor no resentment.
Storms are coming tomorrow so the kiddos will be outside for as long as possible tonight. Then I will shove them in their beds by 9 p.m. because it will take them another couple of hours at least to stop chatting long enough to fall asleep.