A couple of days ago, I got a package in the mail from Beth. That’s weird, I thought, Why would Beth be sending me a package?
So I opened it. Inside, it said: “Happy Birthday!” Oops! I opened a Birthday present early. But Yay! I opened a Birthday present early! Inside were some lovely new pieces of art from Tara for my refrigerator, and a giant blanket. I had told Beth that when I share a blanket with Max on the couch, my feet always end up sticking out because it’s too small. Well, this new blanket is really big. And soft. Max loves it.
And as requested, here’s a picture of the artwork:
Happy New Year! Woo hoo!
My trip to Baltimore could hardly be any more trouble-free than it was. I left Lincoln at 1pm Central Time, and arrived in Baltimore at 5:30pm Central Time. My flights were smooth, my seats were good, I slept, I read. My layover was only 35 minutes, and I was worried I would have trouble making the connecting flight, but I didn’t. Not only was I at the gate on time, but I had time to use the bathroom. Excellent! When I got to Baltimore, my suitcase was the fifth bag to come down the chute at baggage claim. I can’t believe how easily the trip went.
When I got home, Max was sitting on the couch looking all cute.
And I did the most brilliant thing for a New Year’s eve celebration: I went to bed early. You know, some superstitions say that whatever you do on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day is what will happen all year. I guess this will be a Year Of Rest. Nice.
Happy Birthday, Lauren! Your birthday is on a Saturday! Woo hoo! May your day be sparkly!
I got a letter from Nebraska yesterday. It was from Tara and Tim. They sent some pictures. But they were not for me. They were for Max. Beth said that Tara (who has her mothers memory) remembered that I said Max likes glitter paint. So she and Tim made him new creations. I laid them next to him on the couch, and he did what he does with glitter paint. He smelled it.
Thanks, Tara and Tim! Max loves your paintings. I will keep them on the floor a while so he can smell them some more, then I’ll hang them up so I can enjoy them a little too. 
I love the rug in my upstairs bathroom. It’s white and fluffy and soft – it’s like walking on a cloud. But Max doesn’t like it at all. If he has to walk on it, he shakes his feet like they’re wet or something. Most times he opts not to walk on it at all. Instead, he’ll walk alongside it, or he’ll jump up on the tub or toilet to avoid it. It makes me smile, because it reminds me of jumping up on a sidewalk curb or something when I was a kid and avoiding the “hot lava” or the “alligators”. Hehe…
I don’t know if I can keep using the title “Caturday” on Saturdays I post about Max. I’m afraid I’m using the term incorrectly and the internet will scold me for it. I don’t like scoldings. Especially from the internet.
Every morning, I sit on the edge of my bed to pull on my socks. And every morning, Max scratches my socks like a scratching post. It tears at the fabric, but my slanty toenail cuts holes through my socks long before Max could destroy them.
It’s become kind of a bonding thing. When I sit on my bed, he comes over and waits for me to pull on my sock, then he scratches. When he misses a morning, it feels like I’m somehow not ready for the day.
