Tag Archives: patience

Meet Dudley.


Lord Dudley Mountcatten to be precise.



Our new little guy still goes under the bed and shies away from loud noises…



But when he’s out and about he’s a sweetie. And a bit of a goofball.



With enough of the typical you were put on this planet to serve me cattitude to warrant his name.



One minute he’s a cuddle bug, the next he runs away when we walk in the room. I have a feeling this little guy saw some trauma along the way. Patience will be required.



We’re gaining.


Two full days in and we managed to get the new kitty out from under the china hutch.



Granted it was just to under the coffee table, but that’s progress.



I don’t think he was thrilled to have a close up portrait taken, but I’ve got news for him. You can’t be camera shy and live in this house. Momma’s got a blog to write.



At the end of the third day he made it out into the open.



And he really is a love bug once he feels comfortable.

I think it’s going to be a good fit, he just needs a little time.


If there’s an award for the world’s most patient wife…


I should win it.

Hands down.



Because I’ve been looking at this mess for…. count them…. 37 frickin’ days.



This giant load of useless crap was belched from my husband’s closet in the den on December 8th when he needed to climb up in the attic.

I didn’t bitch, it was a necessity.

And since he had the next 30 days off work because he didn’t take any vacation in 2020, I figured he would deal with it at his leisure.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

I didn’t bitch a week later when it was still there.

But two weeks later? I was bitching silently in my head.

Three weeks later? I was bitching in my sleep.

Four weeks later? I was bitching opening while plotting his slow, but quite painful demise.

It’s only today, 37 frickin’ days later, the day before he goes back to work….



That he decided to deal with it. Of course it’s not a matter of simply putting things back in the closet. No. That would be too simple. Instead, each and every item must be fully examined and then brought to me for the desired but never realized “Gee, that’s swell. I wish you had 6 more just like it!” response.

Then he leaves the item in front of me with hopes that I’ll look it up and find it’s worth thousands of dollars.

FYI? The Moosehead beer mirror my husband knew was a vintage bar collectible?



Turned out to be a carnival prize worth $10.

As I type he’s knee deep in a stack of tattered Look magazines from the 60’s.

This clean up may take a while.

Another 37 days is not out of the realm of possibility.


*Update – 5 hours later? The room is still littered with crap and there’s a ladder in the hallway.



Good times.


Mariners’ Museum 4…. in miniature.


The next section of the museum was fascinating if you’ve ever been a fan of model ships.




Growing up I had a friend whose father had a passion for it, and while his were lovely….




There were nothing like the ones on display here.




Case after case of fabulous ships.




Even the most famous ship of all.




Complete with icebergs…




There was even a model of a ……




Yeah, I had no clue what it was either.




Anyway you look at it, they were all impressive. But when the docent asked us if we’d been in the masterclass room yet…




I realized there was a whole other level of craftsmanship.




These models?




Were simply works of art.




The detail was almost unbelievable.




I’d never heard of Mr. Crabtree….




But my proverbial hat was off to him.




I can’t even imagine the patience it took to create these beauties.




They were exquisite.




And if that doesn’t knock your socks off?




Oh, come on.

That’s crazy!




Bravo August.

You certainly did that…