Return from the Dead

Remember me?

I live in a tiny tudor house and love Kate Middleton, my cat Mabel, and starting but not finishing projects, such as this blog. Since we last spoke, I’ve started an additional blog for Mabel, which I kind of forgot about. I’ve made no fewer than eight trips to Michael’s and bought art supplies which I never actually used. I bought a bunch of empty frames and carried them up to my bedroom, where I stacked them on Evan’s valet cart and got kindly asked if I planned to ever move them again. [YES, EVAN. When I get around to it.]

UH OH

I started a Parenthood marathon after hearing what a great show it is. And I designed AND ORDERED business cards for my new Etsy shop, where I never listed any products for sale. I am succeeding at life every single day.

In hopes of surviving the wintertime blues and forcing myself to get some stuff done, I made a new-mid-month’s resolution to get back in the blogging game, this time with less cat references (LOL, JK) and more actual completed craft projects and other goodies! In fact, I think I shall set the goal of posting two creative things I’ve done every week. WITH stunning pictures that I plan to edit and post in glorious high resolution. Or maybe just posting the pictures will be creativity enough. That seems like it’s not that much, but when you’re as lazy as I am, it IS.

To get you excited for this new, magical adventure of OURS, I leave you with this:

Snow Unicorn, courtesy of the 17" of snow currently in my front yard.

Guest Post: Weekend Recap by Mabel Buckley

Hello again, friends. I am back and you are welcome.

I come with tales of the weekend past, because I hear weekend recap posts are very popular in the blog-o-sphere and, let’s face it, Allison’s blog needs all the help it can get. So, what did I do this weekend? Entertain yourself on Facebook or Twitter or something while I consult my Day Planner since I haven’t fully grasped the concept of breaking life down into “days.”

OK, I’m back. This weekend was especially glorious for me, because the humans went somewhere on Thursday night and left me with some much-needed peace and quiet for the whole weekend. I used this peace and quiet very well.

First, took a bunch of selfies. #HOTTIE #AMIRIGHT?



#DUCK FACE



ME HUNGEE



#THOUGHTS



#STARIN OFF INTO SPACE...THE FUTURE IS SO BRIGHT, I NEED SUNGLASSES.

 

JUST BEIN SHY



OH THERE YOU ARE. #WELL HELLO

 

#CAT #CATS #ILOVECATS

Next, I mowed down (pop culture reference that you are probably too old and out of touch to understand) on some delicious #WET FOOD.
 

 

#NOMNOMNOM #FOODIE

#IUSEDTHENICEPLATESSINCETHEHUMANSWEREGONE

#ANDILEFTTHEMDIRTYINTHESINK

Don't worry, I ate dry food too. #PIGGIE #ICANTSTOP #IWONTSTOP

Updated my Facebook frequently and using all the tips of the trade I’ve picked up in the last two weeks of Facebook activity. I now have 33 friends, and I’m thinking about joining some new groups to meet friends online. The real life people I know just aren’t cutting it lately.

Oh yeah, I started an online business this weekend. Etsy may be the rage right now, but my homespun treasures come in the form of online "What Kind of Cat are You?" personality quizzes. If you want one, add me on Facebook: Mabel Buckley. Obviously I took Evan's name when Allison got married. I never liked her anyway.

 

I had quite a bit of response my first week of work, but I'm still trying to collect on a few accounts receivable. #DEADBEATS #MOMONEYMOPROBLEMS

Then I had a friend over to take some more shots of myself.

 

 

#MOREOFMETOLOVE #IT’SNOTAFATPOUCH,IT’SPRIMORDIAL
#KIMKKAT

Of course Allison and Evan came home earlier than expected on Sunday, saying it was Evan’s “birthday.” I had totally forgotten about that but luckily I’d already thrown up a hairball on the entryway rug so I just told Evan that was what I got him. #HOMEMADE

I guess that was it. When I started this post I honestly thought I had done more, but now that I think about it, I did just kind of use this weekend to relax, unplug myself from technology, and just veg a little. Hope you spent your time as wisely as I did.

#tbt: Camping All-Star

As you read this, I am either getting myself psyched up to go camping, or actually driving to a campsite with my dear Evanshine. We will be celebrating our nation’s birthday as our forefathers intended: with grilled foods, fireworks, and sweat.

I get a little PTSD whenever someone suggests camping. You see, when I was a wee little girl, I went to camp Judy Layne Girl Scout camp. I got to take a mess kit, which is something that my doll Molly had in miniature, so I was surprisingly okay with the idea.

However, disaster seemed to strike soon after arrival every single year.

In 1992, I struggled mightily enough with outdoor sounds and bugs that I felt the need to describe it in my diary:

To add insult to injury, my parents took Ross to see Cop and a Half while I was away, which I had been wanting to see.

Then in 1995, I had a near-death experience in knife safety class. We reported to a shelter for class, where our teachers told us we would either be “honing” (haha) our skills on a block of soap or a tree branch. Obviously I elected tree branch, since I am an artist and artists don’t work in soap. The teacher told us: “The First Rule of Knife Safety is never cut toward yourself. Now, before we start class, go get yourselves a stick.”

I headed out into the woods and looked carefully at nature. Each stick candidate had something wrong with it – one was broken, another bendy, too little, etc.

But then I saw it. The Stick. It lay on the ground, seemingly bathed in the glow of angelic light. Only one tiny branch stuck out to the side, marring what was otherwise the perfect medium for the masterpiece I was about to create. So I whipped out my trusty Swiss Army knife and cut that branch off – cutting toward myself.

The knife, which had probably never cut anything before, went straight through the wood, through my thumbnail and into my thumb. It didn’t even hurt, which was nearly as surprising as the enormous amount of blood gushing into the leaves. One of my fellow Scouts screamed. I screamed.

A counselor came running, wrapped up my hand in a bandage and told me we’d go talk to the camp manager’s husband, who just so happened to be a real live EMT and could bandage me up properly. This was reassuring, but still I burst into tears, fearing the worst. I was losing a LOT of blood.

“Am I going to DIE?” I asked through my sobs.

The counselor looked at me like I was the crazy one. She was the one voluntarily working at a camp for an entire summer! “Uh, no.”

Despite these comforting words, I know that I barely survived Girl Scout camp that year. It is only by the grace of God that I somehow survived losing gallons of blood and am here blogging to you today.

My mom even noted this camping trip in my School Days book...
Not only did I slice my thumb open, I also got 80+ chigger bites!!

 

So you can see why I struggle with the idea of camping, even at my mature age. Wish me luck that I come back with all my fingers and toes. God Bless America, and God Bless air conditioners and hot showers when I get home.

(IF I get home…)

HOW TOesday: Facebook Etiquette for Newbies (Guest Post by Mabel Buckley)

Hello there, readers. (I doubt there are any). Mabel here. You may have heard about me before on this blog, though I can promise you that any stories Allison has told about me destroying things, being rude, peeing on stuff, etc. are absolutely false and fabricated by a pathetic human in a sad attempt to get sympathy from the Internet. GET SOME REAL LIFE FRIENDS, ALLISON.

Anyhoo, you may or may not be aware that I recently joined Facebook. I’ve heard quite a bit about it lately, and was wondering WHETHER ANY OF MY FRIEND OR FAMILY KNEW WHAT IT WAS. Well, being the innovative cat that I am I joined, and it’s just as glorious as the commercials suggest.  The things that connect you humans connect us cats too.

I have noticed that there seems to be a little bit of confusion as to how to behave on Facebook.  I’m here to “shed” (HA, CAT JOKE) a little light on the subject with a short list of “Must-Dos.”

1. TO BE SURE THAT YOU GET YOUR POINT ACROSS, MAY I SUGGEST ALL CAPS?

It’s a proven fact that no one reads posts on Facebook if you’re writing in lowercase letters. Might as well call them invisible letters, because that’s how much people are going to look at them. Not at all.

 

See what I did there? As you’re scrolling through your newsfeed, you can’t help but notice that I (1) am bummed out that it’s Monday, and (2) tricked my roomies into thinking I was dying this morning. It’s undeniable that #2 is hilarious, so you’re welcome for posting. Just think, if I’d written in invisible letters, you never would have seen it. 

2. IF IT’S A MEDICAL, EMBARRASSING, OR JUST PLAIN GROSS CONFESSION, PLEASE POST IMMEDIATELY.

 

 

Some might be ashamed to admit that they are under the care of a psychiatrist, but I ain’t ashamed. I REPRESENT the problem of cat anxiety to all those I meet (not that I meet many … my anxiety really is crippling and I spend most of my time under the bed when my roomies have friends over).

You probably notice that I didn’t just post about my anxiety for the sake of posting, but I disguised it as a complaint about the rising price of healthcare. That’s a Facebook favorite these days. THANKS, OBAMA.

 

 

Also, if you’re confused about how your medical history may affect your everyday life, ASK YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS. You’ll be amazed at the wealth of information your FB friends can provide.

3. COMPLAINTS IN DISGUISE ALWAYS GET THE MOST FEEDBACK.

 

It’s no secret that I hate everybody. EVERYBODY. (Yes, you too, Evanshine). It’s really fun to publicize this repeatedly, though.

4. ESPECIALLY COMPLAINTS ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS.

 

 

See? I like to make a complaint with just enough detail that the one I am complaining about immediately recognizes it. (AHEM, ALLISON). Then, if your friends ask what’s up, as they should, you can explain in even MORE detail. Good things come to those who READ THE COMMENTS.

5. IF YOU ARE UNSURE OF CURRENT EVENTS, FACEBOOK > GOOGLE.

 

I don’t read the paper, or watch the news. Obviously. I am busy enough napping in the sun all day. So when I hear a little snippet of a current event, I just post on FB and usually someone can help me out. I trust my friends’ summaries of the news more than I trust the News itself.

6. YOU SIMPLY CANNOT GO WRONG WITH A SELFIE.

 

Even if it makes you look fat.

 

You're welcome, friends. Now leave me some love in the comments section (which Allison finally figured out how to use, so you should be able to actually leave a comment now), or email me at mabelthecatbuckley@gmail.com. (I am pretty bad about checking my email, though, so be warned).

#tbt: From the Desk of Allison L. Grogan, age 6

Last night, I finished The Goldfinch, a Pulitzer Prize-winning, nearly-800 page novel. It was great: nearly as well-written as most of what's on this blog. Naturally, I immediately picked up a new summer read: School Days: A File System to Retain Records and Memories, Preschool Through Grade Six. It's basically a compilation of all the monthly update blog posts my mom surely would have written as I grew up had the Internet and blogging in general been invented at that time. I highly recommend you add it to your Amazon.com wish list immediately.

Aaaaaanyway, this #tbt is brought to you straight from the desk of this little lady:

At this point, I was in first grade, where I was "not interested in participating on sports teams," but "loved dolls," according to my mom's excellent notes. That year, I got straight As and, along with my BFFs, performed a skit called "The Peach" at our school talent show. I was "learning to tell time" and "getting to be a great reader. (Nerd Alert). I also got a haircut and won three ribbons -- one blue, one white, and one green -- at OOVOTO ("Our Own Version Of The Olympics") Day at school, though my mom didn't write down which events I dominated.

Apparently the best thing my mom could think of to write under "Special Memories" was this: 

Allison brought Mom an old newspaper from school (when the teacher was cleaning out shelves) because I recycle papers. 

It's clear that I was just as thoughtful then as I am now.

I was also blossoming into quite the artist -- 

I'm pretty sure that's a picture of Molly holding an American Flag and standing next to a giant lollipop. This was published in the local paper. No big deal.

I also had quite the sense of style, knowing just when to use a cute denim scrunchie and barrette to liven up a side pony.

But most importantly of all, I was an activist. I didn't mind telling people what I thought, especially when I could do so by letter. 

 Exhibit A

I'm pretty sure I had some help in coming up with the subject of this letter (ahem, Dad), but if that's true he could have given me a little more help with punctuation and editing for redundancy. I do think the last line was pretty effective, though. It's always good to end a piece of persuasive writing with a reminder to the reader that you'd like them to do what you just said. 

And for this little glimpse into the mind of Allison L. Grogan, age 6, and that bit of writing advice -- you're welcome!

Happy Father's Day!

You already know that my mom is an expert at taking awkward photos. What you may not have known is that the reason my parents are still happy together after thirty-one years is that my dad is equally photogenic.

In these waning hours of Father's Day, I present you with this tribute to my dear old Dad. It's pretty obvious that he has been dying to be featured on my blog, and I've been holding out on him just to make his Father's Day that much sweeter. Dad -- it's your time to shine!

My dad has taught me many things over the years, and because it's Father's Day and I'm feeling generous, I'm going to share a few of these lessons with you.

He taught me that you can never be too careful to avoid germs:

 and how to be tough:

Dads of Anarchy

He taught me that practice makes perfect:

"Let's see…this is how I'm going to clap when Allie walks across the stage."

 and how to get a great shot:

 He taught me to always stop and smell the roses:

and how to be a great tourist:

"Hands free is the key. Strap every tourist item to your belt so you're ready for anything."

and never to miss a chance to try new foods:

PO BOY

BEIGNET

BROWNIE DELIGHT, DON'T MIND IF I DO.

TINY COKE

GIRLY DRINK

 He taught me the art of a great selfie,

a great swing,

a great catch,

"This is how you reel it in…"

and a graceful pose.

He taught me to always have a song in my heart

OLE, OLE OLE OLE!

 and to be ready to take a nap.

 He taught me to cook great foods

and to always carry an umbrella just in case.

He showed me how to strike a pose

and how to smize.

It's pretty obvious where I got my great sense of style.

Vintage is so in right now.

Gilligan knew how to pick a hat.

If you're wearing the same thing as the oldest person in the room, you're doing something right.

He taught me how to be confident in myself

Photo Booth for one, please.

and perhaps most importantly, how to cheer for the CATS.

OK, I just put this one in so we could all think back on #8.

Dad, IF you're reading my blog -- you're the best. Thanks for all the life lessons and I look forward to many more!