Sweet Miss Clove.
Ciara pretty much always looks appalled by whatever we’re doing. Even if we’re not doing ANYthing.
Ciara and the sparkle ball. Not very sparkly, though – the sparkly threads came off and were scattered from one end of the house to the other.
Declan’s smug little face.
“Soon… soon this will be over…” Poor Maggie, under a pile of kittens.
Cillian and Finnegan on the left, Clove and Cori on the right. Cilantro in the bed behind them.
Cori, sleeping but annoyed.
Cowboy Finnegan.
Cowgirl Cori. They’re exhausted from ridin’ the range and ropin’ cattle.
From her bed atop the kitchen cabinets, Stinkerbelle keeps an eye on things.
Including…
her true love, Tommy, who’s hanging out on top of the fridge.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: Not your average light and happy reading.
2008: No entry.
2007: Because then I’d probably poop my guts out, and that just wouldn’t be a pretty sight.
2006: I think I need a nap.
2005: Hey. What’s worse than not being able to stop yourself from crying? WHEN A MOTHERFUCKER KEEPS LOOKING AT YOU TO SEE IF YOU’RE CRYING. [I find it all cirrrrrrrrcle of life-y that it was about this time four year ago that Mia, from our first batch of foster cats, died.]
2004: She looked simultaneously confused and disgusted. “When do I eat CHICKEN eggs?” She wrinkled her nose.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Sh’yeah. I’m sure Brad’s reallllly worried.
2000: Could that paragraph have been any more rambly and pointless?