<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d5154690\x26blogName\x3dFrank+Gumola+-+Journal+%7C+Weblog\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLUE\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://frankgumola.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://frankgumola.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d8993684900758808945', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Frank Gumola - Journal | Weblog

« Home | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next »

Loveseat Baby, That's Where She's At

My entire family decided to gather south of the border (that's anything south of here as far as I'm concerned) at my brother's house for Thanksgiving. I spent the better part of that morning slaving over a hot oven making meals for locals who decided to stay home as well. After a short four hour shift I got home just in time to catch the last fifteen minutes of the parade; Santa's arrival. I never miss it.

As if on cue I started dinner for David and I; we opted for a small turkey breast instead of a whole turkey. Dinner was delicious and I learned that David can be a 'texture' eater - he can't tolerate jello-like substances. There's always a can of jellied cranberry sauce at Thanksgiving dinner, and this year it was all mine. (Mwah ha ha.)

After dinner came the obligatory sofa nap, then a few movies and a bottle of vino.

Miso Kitty even got a bit of turkey for dinner, and promptly after gorging herself decided to crawl under, and then into, the loveseat.

Yes, into the loveseat.

An entire evening was spent searching and calling for Miss Miso Kitty. David had tears in his eyes when we suddenly heard a few muffled meows coming from the behind the sofa cushions. I started laughing until I realized I needed to tear the fabric from the bottom of the frame in order to get the cat out of her hiding place. Since then she's been extra affectionate and unbelievably obedient.

But I'm still guarding the Christmas tree. And the toy train.

leave a response