My Pussy Purrfector

Every morning, the furry little love of my life likes to help transform me from blurry eyed to bushy-tailed (and trust me, it takes a lot of work).

Since we are all well aware of his flawless purrfection, Teddy dictates my morning makeup routine, whipping my face into presentable shape.

Maybe it's Maybelline

Easy, breezy, beautiful, Cover Cat.

The process begins with Ted using my vanity as his own personal aerobics studio (I mean, it is mirrored and naturally he loves looking at himself while emulating Richard Simmons in Sweatin’ to the Oldies), prancing around all of my accessories, making it next to impossible for me to see the mirror I so desperately need to use.

Mirror block

Cat blocking the mirror.

Upon completion of his workout (and once he’s wasted 14 seconds of my precious morning routine), he tip toes over my eye liners to catch some rays.

Feels so good when it hits the face.

Feels so good when it hits the face.

When his sunbathing is over, Tedstar promptly sets out in selecting my eyeshadow for the day.



Once we’ve agreed on a hue, he oh-so-carefully directs me in its application.

Yeah, that looks good.

Easy on the eye there, Ma!


Pussy approved face.

All of the energy exerted for his five second workout, basking in the sun and project management of making my face presentable takes a toll and TB tends to fall asleep standing up.

So tiring being a makeup artist.

Being pretty is exhausting.

Getting a quick second wind after a two minute cat nap, Mr. Ted E. Bear moves on with the rest of his day as I dress for work.

This starts by lounging on my glittery pink hamper. Which is the exact spot I will find Mr. Handsome in when I come home from a long day.

Beautification complete.

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

As you can see being your mother’s beauty director every morning is a daunting task. But being a perfect pussy is obviously much harder work.

Just look at Ted.



Weekend Winks – Hippity Hoppity Style

Money hunt with the help from Captain.

Money filled eggs + Skinny Pirates = Perfect Easter

As Easter found its way to Nashville yesterday, I packed up the kit cats and headed out to see what the bunny left behind at my parent’s house.

Over the river...

Ted is the best navigator ever – or so he thinks.

New Cat was a little less chill, as he howled the meow of his people the entire 30 minute ride. That being said, this car ride was the longest one we’ve shared yet and the first time he’s been in a kennel that wasn’t whisking him away to the vet.

New Cat

Not so happy New Cat.

After the incessant bawling, Mama needed an Easter cocktail immediately upon arrival.

Drove me to drink.

Driven to drink.

While sipping on refreshments, we got to FaceTime with the twins in Iowa. My niece has taken a shine to the phone (naturally) and being able to see herself on the screen.

Getting down with her bad self

Hello Gorgeous.

Cute Faces

Double the fun – definitely double the trouble.

My buddy The Wandering Poet spread the bunny love by decorating eggs with his Twitter Krew.


Best batch of eggs this year.

Which reminded me of the years full of egg hunts with cousins and our beautiful makeshift Easter baskets – plastic grocery bags.

Old school baskets. Trashtacular baskets

Trashtacular Easter at its finest.

While I didn’t have any cousins to trample, I was able to take my sweet time in collecting eggs and finding my Easter basket (I was very good this year…if you believe it).

Easter mania

Double fisting.

Tedstar refused to move from the chick pail full of eggs scooped up from our annual money hunt (instead of candy, my bunny stuffs the plastic with cold hard cash). And this year, none of the eggs jingled when shook with the usual dimes, nickles and pennies.

Guard cat.

Guard cat.



What did get Teddy up and running strolling was a Toblerone bar that he knew he couldn’t have – but tempted himself anyway.

Lured with chocolate

Inconspicuous fail.

Aside from our annual money hunt there is another family tradition that involves the cheap, Easter basket grass and my dad.

This guy loves him some Easter grass.

This guy loves him some Easter grass.

Being that I can’t help myself from leaving a trail of this stringy shit everywhere like my own version of the Tasmanian devil, my dad once made the mistake of voicing his disdain for my messiness with the fake plastic grass.

Easter Grass Galore

Case  in point.

In the past I’ve hidden piles of this festive filler under his pillow, in his shoes, in the bed, etc…So this year the E. Bunny got smart and inserted paper grass into my basket instead, hoping to thwart finding strings of plastic on the floor until Christmas.

But…I can’t be stopped.

What's behind his shower curtain?

A little shower surprise…

Peter Cottontail was here.

The CBXB Bunny was here.

After planting the Monday am prank, the cats and I high tailed it back to our mini manse, where we closed the fabulous weekend with one last cocktail.

Easters taste so good.

Easters taste so good.

We hope Peter Cottontail was as kind to you as he was to Nashville.