Break Time

I've decided to do what I've seen others do here from time to time.  Things have gotten extremely hectic around here, and there seems to be less and less time to post my ramblings, so I'm going to be taking a short recess from blogger.  
     Dad has gotten a promotion, and he's cramming and running in place to get his head around everything he's going to have to do and all the upcoming new stresses in the coming weeks and months (translated: he's buried in training, learning, training, picking up slack, training, etc.)
     I'll try not to stay away too long, so don't forget about me, okay?  I'll be back as soon as I can fit some kind of posting routine back into our life.  

Not Very Exciting To This Cat

     Mom and dad finally got around to checking out a place nearby called Airlie Gardens here in Wilmington.
  I think mom was a little more excited than dad was, but they got in a nice bit of walking, and got to see some interesting
sculptures and some other stuff I'd find boring, honestly.  That sign at the top is in front of a live oak tree that's supposed to be over 400 years old, and stands at the beginning of the walking trail that snakes around the park.

That's pretty old as far as trees go.  I can relate to how that tree must feel, considering we are about the same age.
      There was even a large screened-in building that housed a variety of butterflies, and the above shot was one of mom
and dad's favorites.  The frogs are part of something called "Ribbitt the Exhibit", and they're on display throughout the
summer.  They (mom especially) enjoyed the many beautiful fountains, formal gardens and historic structures scattered through-
                                    out the grounds.  The bottle chapel was especially interesting, but a certain dingbat failed to get a decent picture of it for me.  If you get a chance check out the Airlie Gardens website and see photos and video there.  
     None of this crap seems interesting to me, and I'm glad they didn't try to take me along.  They spent the first part of the day at the beach down at Fort Fisher, where they go for their hey-lets-turn-our-pasty-white-skin-brown-ish treatments.  
     All in all it doesn't sound like much of an exciting day to me, but to each their own.
     Disclaimer- I apologize for the strange appearance and positioning of the text in this post.  It takes two of us to do this, and, though I have my part down pat a certain other old fart seems to have problems with simple things.  He blames it on Blogger, but it's simply that he's an idiot sometimes.  But I love him.  Because he's awesome and takes great loving care of me.  He made me write that.  Sometimes he makes me soooo mad.  If I were bigger than him I'd....

Some New Post Keywords: Pumpkin; Turd; Syrup; Addiction

So lately I seem to be having some issues regarding my gastrointestinal system (my poop is hard and doesn't always want to come out).
     Dad did some research, and learned that among many other natural remedies cats are supposedly attracted to pumpkin. Mom went out yesterday and picked up a can, and they tried to get me to eat it.  
     I took one whiff and walked away.  At my age I'm not much of one to try new things.  Mom also brought home a small can of moist me-food for those "special" times when I deserve a treat (ear cleaning, eye-booger cleaning, vets visit, etc.).
     After I turned up my nose at the straight pumpkin I watched as mom mixed a small plop of it in with some of the wet food, and I'll have to say- it was actually pretty appetizing.
     I'm a little uncomfortable with my pooping habits being discussed publicly, but they said they're going to watch to see if this helps.  Actually, dad gets to be the official "Turd Observer".
     Dad made some of mom's delicious homemade whole wheat pancakes for dinner last night, and he decided to try some of the pumpkin in his half of the batter, along with a few raisins.  Mom didn't much care for them, but dad loved them, and since he's been trying to do without sugar these days the bath of pure Vermont maple syrup he gave his pancakes sent him spiraling into a sugar stupor.
     Mom has to monitor the flow of that stuff, and she thought dad might have had his shit under control.  All she could do was shake her head as she watched him lick the syrup dripping from the rim of the ginormous jug they brought back from their trip to New England.