Disclaimer: I unabashedly claim the title as Nashville’s craziest cat lady, so when you read the next sentence, you shouldn’t be shocked.
This past weekend called for a celebration as the fur ball love of my life Teddy Bear and I celebrated our five-year anniversary (yes, not only do I cry in cat cemeteries, wear cray cray cat lady lingerie, and nurse broken cat hearts back to life, I also celebrate our milestones together. Judge away).
We prepped Friday evening by lying low with wine and salad.
And Bear was not amused when I was filling him in on all of the upcoming party shenanigans I had in store for him the following evening.
I awoke Saturday to a familiar barnyard sound. When I groggily got up to peer out the window, I was pretty sure I was dreaming because what to my wondering eyes did appear but a rooster, cock-a-doodling with a chicken in hot pursuit. WTF?
After assuring Ted that chickens don’t make good food (he’s allergic to all chicken products – for real) as he was practically foaming at the mouth, I diverted his attention with party balloons.
Once our guests arrived, we were sure to let no one go thirsty.
A major party foul occurred just as I was about to take a sip out of my first cocktail. Two young, obviously frightened deer sprinted down my driveway and into the brush. What would force sweet deer down a noisy party driveway? Thirteen year old boys chasing them down the street, that’s who. Well, not on my watch…I marched out to the street to speak with the little hood rats and promptly forgot what attire I was in while scolding the boys. They took me oh-so-seriously. Wouldn’t you?
Our resident boy scout was able to keep a fire going, even though I only provided him with rain-soaked wood.
Even with the fire, this party goer almost got thrown out for lack of style…
When it was time to head inside and celebrate with cake, I found this on my couch.
Ted’s Gma prepared his (well, maybe my) favorite treats – yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
And while Ted refused to get up off of his bed, he was more than willing to take a couple licks of cake.
TB could hardly keep his eyes open after his sugar rush but the party wore on (for a few of us anyway).
Although my mother thought it would be hysterical to accidentally lock me out of my own mini manse while I was out picking up the party trash (real garbage, not actual people in this case). But the joke was really on her because I know how to tear off a screen from a window (she raised such a smarty pants).
And while my mom and I carried on the celebrating the next day over a Mexican Mother’s Day lunch, Teddy was in deep recovery from being the star of the show.
How long do you think Ted will make me pay for this weekend?