Formerly Feral, Now Art Director, Friday

Kitties, I learned a new word: geegaw. It is a variant of gewgaw and means a showy trifle - a bauble or trinket. Some of you might call them chotzkes like I used to.
It's a very funny word that describes Mosaic Lady's new obsession - making stuff with vintage jewelry!
Of course, I act as Art Director and Creative Consultant. I wanted to show off some of my recent masterpieces.

After I choose my geegaws, I sniff the glue to be sure it is fresh.

Sometimes I over-sniff the glue.

Luckily, I'd already laid out my vision for this frame before passing out.

I keep my distance from the glue next time.

Voila! A purple mirror.
For this large photo frame, I did some quality control on the lazy susan.

I sign off on the design layout...

and then I OK the final product.


Here is this week's creation - a mirror. Do you love the periwinkle blue? Be sure to biggify any of these to see the individual geegaws.




I like this new fetish of GL's a lot because we can do it inside at any time of day with any kind of weathers.
She lets me unpack the boxes of geegaws when they come in the mail. This is a safety precaution because she still makes herself bleed every day trying to open them with scissors. And she lets me wear the necklaces.
Geegaws are way more fun to whap off the tables than china shards, and because there is no grouting, I do not get toxic dusts in my silky furs.

After my part-time job is done, I return to my full-time life's mission - yard vigilante. My air gun needs air, apparently. No one told me I needed CO2 things to power my new gun!
I wish Mosaic Geegaw Lady and Mosaic Geegaw Dawg were more helpful in the War On Tomerism.

Cats Who Cube, Tuesday

THANKS, ZOOLATRY HUMAN!

My Trusty Deputy, Monday

Si Se Puede!

Annie Got Her Gun

Warning: This post not for the faint of heart!

It turns out that February sucked more than a little, Kitties.
There was my disasterous fall in my circus stunt gone wrong; my twice-infected toe; and ML's 50th wake.
And then there was Willie's near-wake.

There is a very evil and ferocious black tom cat who has been terrorizing us. He lives down the road in a junk yard heap of dilapidation. His "caretakers" feed him, but will not neuter him. (ML tried that.) He is under the delusion that my yards are his yards. He has been around ever since the Mosaics moved into this house, but he only started really coming around very frequently in the late afternoons right after I moved in.
Black on black violence, Kitties!
His head is as fat as his balls.
He is fearless and cunning, and lies in wait for us. I maintain a near-constant vigil from my many window seats. It is exhausting.

Two weeks ago he threw down with Willie, mere feets from Willie's own front porch. By the time ML got to Willie, this is what Willie looked like (He looked worse. This was after the fur doctor cleaned him up):

I will spare you the gory details of the minutes and hours following but will say that many stinky bodily excretions were covering Willie and ML as she yanked him out from under the front deck and raced him to the fur doctor's. It is hard to say who was closer to fainting from the adrenaline surge, ML or Willie.
He was in much pain and could not walk for a couple of days, and then could only walk with his back legs going in a different direction from his front legs. Today he seems back to his (very) old self, and can even trot at his geriatric pace in a straight line. Sort of.

You all know that stress and anger do not nurture the blogging muse. We have all been pretty unmotivated when it comes to our posts. Plus, I have been very busy for those few rare moments in the morning when I do get to go outside, replacing his eau de toilet all over my yards and doors with my own signature scent.
He is really pissing me off, Kitties.
ML got a trap from Animal Control the next morning and watched Tom walk around it two days in a row to spray the back of my shed that she placed it in. We caught an irritated possum on the second night.
And then I had an idea.
I got a gun. An air gun that shoots pellets. I think Militant Mosaic Lady is going to let me shoot Tom bin Laden.


Smells like Tom spirit!

The bummer of all this is that just when we thought ML was going to get us a new COUCH for her birthday, now she is probably going to get us THIS. I'm sure you know how that thrills me.
She keeps telling me it's because she loves me so much and that it will protect the geriatrics who just like to sit on the back benches, mostly, to catch the suns in their furs.


And then there is that summer snake fetish of Sadie's.

It will go here, 100 feet of it, to enclose the deck and pretty much all of the grass that you can see. I will be furious, of course, and will take my frustration out on Sadie, of course, and ML will be forced to let me roam the yards freely, of course, and then she will continue to spend the rest of her (very limited) days obsessing over my whereabouts and my safety, of course.

I'm loaded for Tom, Kitties!

No country for Old Toms!
There will be blood!

Mosaic Hangover Monday

Kitties, my furs hurt.

It was a rockin' 2nd Annual 49th Birthday weekend. (My godmother called it that and ML is sticking with it.)
We gave ML what she wanted the most: we vacuumed the whole house. (We did not dust or give Mosaic Dawg a bath because...well...we exhausted ourselves sucking up so many feet of furs.)
And then she rearranged the ancient, dilapidated couches in hopes that "some of us" would move over to the other part of the room and leave her alone on Sadie's couch.
There is such a thing as false hope, Mr. Obama. Geriatrics don't like change.

There was no shortage of wine...

and no shortage of candy, Ben & Jerry's, or carrot cake.

In addition to sending ML a greeting a day for a whole week that included tons of great birthday photoshop art starring US, Zoolatry Human sent a photo of yesterday's graphic and THIS FRAME.
I would say something about someone's thighs and this frame, but I'm sure I do not have to.
We can not wait to show you what our Godmother got US for ML's birthday, but it will take a while to arrive.

Thank you for so many lovely comments and wishes and good thoughts on our blog.
It was a very nice weekend. Oddly enough, ML is far more chipper and excited and relaxed about her rite of passage than we ever believed her capable of.
That might change when the wine buzz and sugar high wear off.

The first day of the rest of her lazy life!

Almost FIFTY Friday

Here is our 50th birthday party planning committee, hard at work making sure this is Mosaic Lady's BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

She will probably have that glass of wine surgically attached to her lips for the next 72 hours to help her through the trauma of it all.
I will notify you when her "Intervention" episode is going to air.

It's very embarrassing when she tries to convince me that the man on tee vee is her husband.
I hope he can come to the intervention.

(Pee Ess: There was a very good photo of Mosaic Dawg sleeping in her bed and Sadie sleeping on her couch during our meeting, but I refused to post it. The dawg furs on the carpet were even more humiliating than when she makes me call her: "Mrs. Brian Williams".)