Kitty TP (subtitle: Yooper Stewart Saves the Night)

Sunday afternoon my four year-old niece got to attend her first ever jewelry party (that's a big deal for any princess). Unfortunately for my Pudding Cup, her tummy hurt. It hurt so much that she sort of turned into a stinker and her mom called Daddy to pick her up.

Daddy did as he was asked. He picked up Pudding Cup and took her to Costco, where she promptly puked. She barfed again on the way home, and a few more times over the next 24 hours.

Yeah, that's gross. Vomit is never fun. I felt pretty bad for my sister (and my niece) until I went to bed that same night. Nothing could have prepared me for the horror that is my lil' Midgie.

Midgie Moomer is one of my cats. She's mostly white with some big black and brown patches. She is a true princess kitty - she'll cuddle with you when she's good and ready, but not a moment before.

During the winter Midgie likes to be roasty, toasty warm. During the day she lays on her big brother, Bucket, to soak up his heat. At night, she prefers to crawl under the covers and snuggle up to her mama. While it can be annoying when she steps on my bladder, I usually enjoy our cuddle fests. Sunday night she jumped right on the bed as soon as I turned out the light. I held up the edge of the blanket and she scurried on under.

Like many cats, Midgie has to investigate many possible resting locations before she'll commit. Sunday night was no exception. She walked in circles, stopped so I could pet her, then stepped onto my gut, backed up, walked up toward my head, crossed my chest and scouted out my left side.

During all of this, I continued to pet her. Midgie loves to get petting, and if you do it long enough, she drools. Yuck. Sunday night she drooled. Gag. I wiped it on my t-shirt.

Then she farted.

Then she drooled some more.

Then I noticed that my hand wasn't wet from being near her mouth...I was petting her hips.

Hips. Wetness. Stinky farts.

I whipped back the covers, turned on the light, and forced the bile back down my throat. Midgie had dingle berries. Wet, sloppy, dingle berries. I did what any tired, disgusted woman would do.

"Oh, God - Midgie!!"

Yooper Stewart woke up and did what any protective man would do when his wife starts yelling the cat's name - he pinned her to the bed.

"No! Let her go!!"

The cat escaped, but her damage was done. Poop smear on my duvet, hands, teddy bear, and pajamas. I ripped everything off the bed and jumped in the shower. When I came back, Midgie had finally realized there was something amiss in her butt region and cleaned herself.

And because we each have our own twin sized down comforters for the winter, Yooper Stewart was sound asleep again on his unscathed side of the bed.

Give me a puking kid any day.

Yooper Stewart: A Tribute to Matt

This is the man I married - a crazy haired guy with a 1982 Camaro (which is now for sale, let me know if you're interested).

This guy went to bed when I woke up, drove a beat-up Suburban (in addition to the Camaro), and turned to his sister when his clothes needed to match. He thinks Camo is one of the primary colors, and he has a hoodie for every occasion. It wasn't uncommon for him to disappear into the woods for days at a time, re-emerging only to go to work. I fell in love with Grizzly Adams.

We got married.

We started a family.

I was happy as a clam with my mountain man. And then...

Here's what you need to understand: Matt proposed three months after we met. We married five months later. To say that we hardly knew each other is an understatement. Having grown up with two sisters I wasn't prepared for life with a man who could pack a tent in 2.5 minutes but couldn't fold a t-shirt.

Considering all of our differences, nothing could have prepared me for the biggest surprise of life with Matt - Yooper Stewart. While Matt is very much a Yooper (for you non-Michiganders, imagine a red neck without the racial prejudices), he also has tendencies of the Martha Stewart persuasion.

Matt loves the holidays, and nothing says "It's the season!" like coordinating kitchen towels. These are two of his favorites. They don't get much play time each year, but their colors and texture really speak to the guy.

Along the same line we have coordinating dishes. Matt's a big fan of Kohl's St. Nicholas Square holiday patterns. Here are a couple that we've accumulated.

We even have the matching bowls...

But it's not all about the seasons. Matt likes other things to match, too. When we bought our house, he wouldn't install new door knobs/locks until we had two that matched. Even though there's no possible way to ever see the front and back door knobs at the same time, he insisted. Recently he purchased some new bag clips for our groceries.

We have four sets of matching clips.

And like any blue collar, camo wearing, hygiene-apathetic northern Michigan man, he likes to have a drink before bed.

Tonight he went with the Sleepy Time instead of the Tension Tamer (it was a tough call).

I love you, honey!!!