A heartwarming story...

I went over to Karen Kool's blog today and it appears she's taking a break, so her readers are filling in for her by leaving all sorts of comments. This one was taken straight from the source, no editing involved, so I will give it a rating before you read too far. This story has been rated PG-13 (by me) for language. Here it is:

Here's a truly heartwarming story about the bond formed between a little 5 year old girl and some construction workers that makes you believe that we CAN make a difference when we give a child the gift of our time...

A young family moved into a house, next door to a vacant lot. One day a construction crew turned up to start building a house on the empty lot.

The young family's 5-year-old daughter naturally took an interest in all the activity going on next door and spent much of each day observing the workers.

Eventually the construction crew, all of them gems-in-the-rough, more or less adopted her as a kind of project mascot. They chatted with her, let her sit with them while they had coffee and lunch breaks, and gave her little jobs to do here and there to make her feel important.

At the end of the first week they even presented her with a pay envelope containing a couple of dollars. The little girl took this home to her mother who said all the appropriate words of admiration and suggested they take the two dollar "pay" she had received to the bank the next day to start a savings account.

When they got to the bank, the teller was equally impressed and asked the little girl how she had come by her very own pay check at such a young age. The little girl proudly replied, "I worked last week with the crew building the house next door to us."

My goodness gracious," said the teller, "and will you be working on the house again this week, too?"

The little girl replied, "I will if those assholes at Home Depot ever deliver the fucking sheet rock..."

We take pumpkin carving seriously...

Last year, Steve and I went pumpkin picking at a farm near Princeton. Unfortunately, we picked our pumpkin in the rain. It was okay though; we got a good pumpkin and carved a coyote howling at the moon. It was quite a fun experience. This year, we decided to pick a pumpkin from a more local area, as in, a near-by garden center. We got a bigger pumpkin for maybe the same price. However, it rained again, so now its tradition. Next year, we can't pick our pumpkin UNLESS it rains. If we have a drought, we're screwed, no pumpkin haha. Anyway, after many hours of sketching and debating about the design, drawing it out over the course of a few days, we finally settled on something that was to our liking.

We were finally able to open the pumpkin up and clean out the insides. Thus begins 8 1/2 hours of cleaning, pin-holing, magic-marker-outlining, carving and painting with vaseline so it will keep longer.


Had we known how long our design would take us, we would have settled for the easier and more messy design of "vomitting pumpkin."


Perhaps I will plant a garden next year and we will be able to pick pumpkins in the rain at my house.


We took a copy of our design, and poked pinholes into the skin of the pumpkin.


Steve went over it in black marker showing the parts of skin we should carve off.


Just as we are getting started. You can't tell what it is yet can you? I did that on purpose, mwah-hahaha!


What could it be? A horse's head?


A spooky ghost?


Ooh, getting closer...


Voila! In case anyone is wondering, it is a boy. Legend has it that there is no such thing as a female Phoenix.

videos and pomegranates

Does it bother anyone that pomegranates are not symmetrical fruit? They are round, so you think they are symmetrical. But the top hemisphere has a taller bump. Then you cut it open. The bottom looks like a star, and has extra seeds inside. The top just has five "pockets" or seeds, instead of being all across the top of the dome shape. Yay for asymmetry! I hate it when people are anal retentive about symmetry. Not even the human body is symmetrical. At a glance it is, of course. Two legs, two arms, one head in the center. But studies have shown that if you take a picture of a person's face and reverse it, people have a harder time recognizing themselves or others, which indicates the placement of facial features is not symmetrical. In addition, you've got the spleen on the left, the heart in the mid-left, the pancreas on the mid-right, and the liver and gall bladder on the far right. That's not symmetrical. People should just give it up. Nature didn't intend for things to be symmetrical. That would be boring.

Oh and here are some videos.
darth vader meets monty python
what i have to look forward to with my kitty Jack.

Random thoughts

1. Is it squirrel mating season? I almost hit 4 very lucky squirrels today. They chase each other in pairs across the street.

2. I wasn't so sure about working at the greenhouse, but when I was there today and was asked how I like it, I said "Its growing on me." Hehe I'm so clever.

3. Today I wore my tight jeans. I call them my tight jeans because I haven't worn them in at least a year because they are too tight. But they fit now. I guess that means my other jeans are now too big. Which is funny because now that winter is coming I have been craving carbs and fats so I can bulk up for the cold and maybe actually feel something past my knees this winter. And I have also not been doing jujitsu as often as I used to. So you'd think with less exercise and more fatty foods, my jeans would be tight still. I like these jeans so I'm happy. But bummer, that means I'm gonna be SOOOO cold this winter, if I'm losing weight now.

4. I just took one of those online quiz things that asks you questions based on what you're wearing and what your natural hair color is (I was born with black hair that lightened to dirty blond with faint strawberry blond hints and later darkened to brown before I dyed it for the first time, with henna- so I don't know my natural color). I discovered that I am a "skanky emo skater with a nice smile, beautiful eyes, hints of too much to handle, finally ending with a broken heart." Thats a mouthful. They shouldn't base stuff on your natural hair color.

5. Hypothetical situation #(whatever the last number was plus one). I haven't done a hypothetical in a while. I was thinking about something I heard the other day, about a Jujitsu sensei in the AJJF. They said that no one ever really sees him angry unless a student brings dishonor to the dojo. So one thought leads to another until I finally came up with this scenario. If a person does something that could be construed as "bringing dishonor to the dojo" but keeps it a secret from everyone except me, is it my responsibility to inform the sensei so that the deed can be properly dealt with? What about if there's one other person who knows? Do I rely on them to make the decision? What if I have been involved longer and have a better knowledge of the intricate workings of the dojo? Who am I to inflict my morals on the doer of the deed? Or is it better said, "Who am I to inflict the sensei's morals on the doer of the deed?" Does honor have anything to do with morals?

I'd be interested in getting people involved in this kind of discussion. If anyone wants to comment, feel free. Lead by doing, be the first to break the silence of my comments section.

My job.

I don't mention my job much. I thought I would share with you all so you know what's going on. I work in a greenhouse. I keep forgetting and saying "nursery" when people ask me what I do. Then they say "awwwwww" in a really high pitched voice and then I have to tell them its not kids, its plants. Some people that know me better know I would kill myself if I woke up from a coma and discovered I somehow got hired at a kid-nursery.

Anyway, daily chores involve checking the plants to see if they are dry and watering them, cleaning dead leaves out, checking for pests or disease, sweeping, and telling customers that they can't put that plant on the porch, they can't put this one in a south window, they HAVE to put that one in the south window, they can't transplant into that pot because it won't drain... etc.

Its ok... it may or may not be where I'm "supposed" to be. But I want to be employed and I don't have the energy to keep applying to places for the time being, so this is where I will be for now. The employees are divided into two camps that don't agree with each other's plant-care-style. I really don't care either way. I've learned the ropes quickly, (though there's still a ton to learn) and I've figured out when I'm with camp one, I can do it their way and when I'm with camp two I'll do it that way. Neither one really kills the plant or harms customer satisfaction.

Anyway, I only deal with indoor greenhouse plants. The outdoor guys take care of things like shrubbery, vegetable garden stuff, and mums. Not the manager, but the other three guys, would probably be best described as Dumb, Dumber, and Dumber-er. But they're kinda fun to work with.

Anyway, here you go. Some of my babies:


Bromeliad up close. EDIT: I'm wrong, this is Tillandsia. Oops.


The whole bromeliad table. EDIT: The whole bromeliad/tillandsia table.


Amaryllis. The smell from this one is gorgeous.


A type of Begonia bred for the leaves rather than the flowers. There are some other types but my camera failed to capture the sparkle in the leaves. Guess you will have to use your imagination.


Some kind of funny name like Hydroxifolia. I know there's a Y, an X, and an F in it. Its in the violet family, but much bigger.


Some kind of succulent, on our cactus table. I don't remember the name of it, but this is the flower stem, not the whole plant.


A flowering cactus. Its really cute, this whole pot is only three inches in diameter.

Well that's it. Maybe someday I'll take some broader pictures of the whole greenhouse so you can get a better idea of the thing that is now filling my early afternoons.

HAHAHAHA

I check the postsecret website religiously. One of the postcards that had been sent in said something about a person who took LSD at Disneyland. A reader responded by email to the webmaster, and he posted the response:

"My brother dropped acid at D-land and called me in hysterics after riding Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. He told me--through tears--that he was dead and had gone to Hell. The next time I went on the ride, I realized that the ride actually does end in Hell. Weird for a kiddy-ride."

I just had to laugh. It lightened my day a little, since my last blog was about an hour ago and pretty bummed out.

stupid stupid rain

A guy I once had a crush on once told me never to despise the rain because it is what gives life to all things, and the sun will come again another day. I always treasured what he said and promised myself I'd always be thankful for the rain.

However, he told me that in the spring. This is fall when everything is dying anyway and doesn't need rain to live. The only thing that needs rain to live is mold. And that's what I'm allergic to. So my nose started running as the rain started this morning. It didn't help that I spent the day in a greenhouse surrounded by pollen. I can't breathe and I have had permanent post-nasal drip all my life.

I just spent 10 minutes dry-heaving in the shower. I think I screwed up my back and gave myself pleurisy. At least I can breathe now. I just can't stand up straight. Woooooh!

...

Stupid hippies.

Weekend

So, its a better day and I can now write about my weekend.

SATURDAY

On Saturday, I drove down to New Brunswick, met Steve, and we drove together to Taylor's house for Navin's birthday party. I brought some yummy homemade pumpkin apple streusel muffins. When we got there, we headed (almost) straight for the bouncy thing, which Taylor somehow got a great affordable deal on. We spent most of the night in there, playing with Taylor's little brother Colin, who had us fighting him with our animal super powers. There were levels and a boss to defeat, an indication that perhaps he's had ten minutes too many on the video games.


Then Petals the Clown showed up. She is a friend of Taylor's family, and stopped by after work. We were all standing around talking about her job when Navin interrupted. "I just have one question." Petals asked what that was. "Can I have a sword?"


So Petals ran back to the car as fast as her floppy shoe could take her and in no time, Navin was happy.


So was Steve.


In fact, we all got some sort of a balloon toy before Petals had to go home. But no fear, the night is not complete without sparklers and a bonfire.


Of course, you can't have a party without a cookie cake either.

All in all, it was a great party. We did a little jujitsu in the bouncy thing which was fun and quite a different experience, since there's no way to keep your balance in that thing. Reflecting on the night, its great that in our early 20s, we can still have a great time at a party that would be heaven to an 8 year old. I have come to realize in the past few years that the best friends you can have are the ones that bring out your inner 8 year old. The ones that let you live life simply, the ones that can appreciate the tiny things in life, and the ones that help you truly enjoy living for the sake of living. If, at 23, I can have as much fun fighting the mutant lobsters as Colin is having, then I know I am friends with the right people.

SUNDAY

Steve and I went to a wedding in Mt Laurel NJ. Kevin and Heather are former Jujitsuka, and Kevin is a blackbelt. In our dojo, we have a tradition in which, at the wedding reception of a blackbelt, other black belts are allowed to throw the one getting married. Its usually at the discretion of the bride and groom, and how approving they think their friends and family would be of such a demonstration at a wedding. Kevin had the foresight to provide his own mat, which could possibly be a first in the history of the dojo, although I don't know; I haven't been around long enough. Kevin is also Jewish, so there were some traditional elements of a Jewish wedding, and Heather is from a Christian background, so there were traditional elements there as well. In all, it was both a traditional and non-traditional wedding. Traditional because there were so many traditions upheld, non-traditional because its kind of against conventional practice to mix multiple traditional backgrounds. But no one cared much and all enjoyed the wedding. Here are some pictures for your enjoyment.


The most adorable flower girls and ring bearer ever.


Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Schnitzer


The Kennedy family. Scott, Stacy, and the twins.


Some good-looking wedding guests.


Congratulatory throws. My camera cannot handle both an indoor setting and a sport setting all at once.


Party favors. A much better idea than the usual bag of mints. (They are candles and the ribbons say "Kevin and Heather" with the date.)


Some guest... I dunno he kept doing cute things so I would take a picture of him. I don't know who he is.


The Jewish chair dance thingie.


Kevin and Heather, the day after.


I swear, this is not Roberto Benigni.

Screw up day...

I want to write about my awesome weekend. However, I'd probably mess it up and accidentally insult someone's mother. I have messed up a bazillion times today so I am afraid to attempt screwing up an account of a great weekend.

In short, I should have come home when I originally planned (but I didn't because I was too tired to drive). If I had done that, I would not have had to wake up at 8 am. I would have been able to resist the urge to stay eight more minutes under the covers. I would not have gotten stuck in morning traffic on 287, and would not have had to drive home to get my uniform because I would already have been there. I would not have been 7 minutes late for work, and would not have left my license in my other pants (not the uniform).

After that escapade I contemplated staying home instead of going out as I had said I would this Monday, but received a phone call begging me to be there. So, I made another phone call saying I'd make it to part of it. But not all. In the end I got to that one late, for some unexplained reason of which I am not even aware. I did have my license on me by that time though. And of course leaving I screwed up and went the wrong direction.

That being said, I am NOT going to tell you about my awesome and flawless weekend (except for losing 17 cents) involving a birthday party and a Jewish wedding. I will have to save it for tomorrow.

Oh yeah. And if you didn't figure it out, I found a job, which I didn't tell you all about except perhaps individually, because it is not a victory for me, nor is it a failure. But I suppose I will save that for another day as well.

While I sleep, enjoy this.
Birdies

New Year's Resolutions a little bit early.

I am watching the movie Super-size Me. I had to stop in the middle because I'm feeling sick to my stomach over it.

Resolution 1. I want to eat nothing but home-grown salad for the rest of my life.

Resolution 2. I want to exercise more. Like every day for 4 hours.

Resolution 3. My kids will go to a school ONLY IF that school has a strict exercise program, as well as a health class at least once a week. If not, they will be homeschooled.

Resolution 4. My kids will bring a bag lunch to school. They will not bring money with them to school, because they will not be buying lunch there.

Resolution 5. Heck, I'm not having kids. They are better off and safer as eggs in my ovaries.

On a slightly more serious note...

In Christianese, there's a phrase people say to those who are struggling with something. If I have a problem, particularly a lot of worries, the phrase someone would say to me is, "Lay it down," followed by some designated location for such a struggle, such as at the foot of the Cross, at the feet of Jesus, at the throne of God, and so on and so forth. A similar concept would be the jujitsu term, "sutemi." It is an abandonment of the self, letting things go so that something better can happen.

A while back, I was struggling with something. It was a constant thing for me, every week, I would "lay it down" and ask God to take the pain away. And every Sunday (and a lot of nights in bed), crying and giving everything over to God was somehow relieving to me. And then I noticed that a few hours after all that happened, the pain would come rushing back like a boomerang and hit me in the face.

So I stopped all that, and I decided that if that crap wasn't going to stay there at God's feet then what was the point of wasting all those tears and all that time to lay it down there? For a long time I had a quite uneventful church life. It was awesome. I won't say I was "mad" at God, because I wasn't exactly mad but there were things I didn't understand and didn't have the energy to try to work it out. Kind of a lover's quarrel or something. I stayed away from church emotionally and it was great. I didn't have to deal with the changes our church went through, I didn't have to deal with the family with the crazy kids, and I didn't have to worship a God who couldn't hold onto my problems for me. I was there physically but my mind was blank. I went to the Caribbean while my body went to church.

Today though, we had a different speaker than usual, one of the elders, and the father of an elementary-school classmate of mine. The sermon was about how God is always trying to speak to us, whether we listen or not. I started thinking about some of the things I've been reading here and there that may have been God talking, if I'd been listening.

I read something just last night, that suggested maybe instead of seeing God as the Author who controls the whole story, maybe we should see God as the main character. The Gospel of John starts out with "In the beginning" just like Genesis. John takes it farther back than the beginning of the world. John talks about intimacy within the Trinity. The whole thing, then, might be about God, not us. Maybe we're just supporting actors, the ones God interacts with.

As I sat there, listening to my friend's dad preach, I was wondering what it is that God could be saying to me. I wondered why I would try to listen when I felt like He let me down, and all of a sudden a thought popped into my head. "Why do you think God let that pain come back and haunt you all those times?" I hadn't really tried to figure it out. Maybe there's a reason. Could it be that by remaining in pain caused by a certain person it will keep the topic fresh in my mind and will keep me praying for that person? Could it be that person really needs prayers right now? Could a highly talented author who once wrote "prayer gives strength to the angels to fight your demons for you" have been dead-on accurate?

As if to confirm what I was thinking, I heard a song on the radio today that had the lyrics "why would You ruin my life to show Your love?" and I thought... y'know, that's kinda how I feel. Its like the country song, "Jesus loves you, I don't." Just because I can't bring myself to care about this person anymore is no reason God doesn't care about them and its no reason I should stop praying for them; its no reason to deprive that person's angels of the strength to fight the demons in their life.

Soo... to sum things up... God never stopped talking to me, I stopped listening, and started again today. It doesn't mean everything's alright with us again, it doesn't mean I got all my questions answered or even that I understand in plain English what God's saying to me. But its a step in the right direction. Or A direction, anyway. Better than standing in the middle of the road with an upside-down map and a Polaroid camera.

Ok thats all.

My widdle black belt!

Awww, isn't he cute?? I wonder if Ma will let me keep him... hope he's housebroken.

Congratulations, Stevie!

cooking with Anissa

Last week, Anissa came to help me be sick. We made soup and it was good haha. She told me that she loved being in my kitchen. Why? Because nothing matches. The following pictures would make her mother have a stroke.

BTW, one glass is missing because its the only one of the set and its in the dishwasher. I didn't count the mason jars that we drink out of, or the mugs, or anything used for alcoholic drinks, or the 1950s style tin cups that mom just HAD to have a few years ago.


Behold, one representative from each of our 8 incomplete silverware sets! Plastic doesn't count.

Carrots, Eggs, Coffee

No, its not a new breakfast menu.

Its kind of a rant and kind of not. You see, in the past week I have discovered I can tell the difference between a cold and allergies, and my body has transitioned seamlessly from one to the other and back again. Kudos on the great teamwork, Body. You are really doing a great job making me want to shoot myself. In the past three days I have lost my appetite, five pounds, and all desire to sleep. And starting tonight, I am itchy all over my body with no visible rash or hives to prove there's a problem. I am also trying to find a job, clean up my room and my life and my mental state of mind, and sort out how much jujitsu I actually want in my life these days. Why am I telling you this?

Because tonight, I was cleaning out my email account and came across an email from my mom. The story is that the daughter went to her mom and said, "Everything in my life is going wrong. I solve one problem and another pops up." Her mother took her into the kitchen and put three pots of water on the stove. She put carrots in one pot, eggs in another, and coffee beans in the third.

After 20 minutes of boiling, the mother turned off the stove. She fished out the carrots and put them in a bowl, the eggs into a second bowl, and ladled the coffee beans into a third bowl. She asked her daughter to feel each one and tell her what had happened. The daughter asked her mother what it meant.

"Each of these items experienced the same adversity: boiling water. The hard, unrelenting carrots were made soft and limp by the water. The egg with a liquid interior became hardened inside. But the coffee beans remained the same. It was the boiling water that changed. When things get tough, be yourself. Don't change because of circumstances, but do your best to change the circumstances rather than let them dictate who you should be."

Its an interesting concept. Sometimes I think a little change is good for me, so I don't know that this is entirely accurate. But it is a curious thing to be coffee. I am not exactly sure what I should be changing my circumstances into. If my problem is that Northern New Jersey has a limited number of jobs available, how exactly do I go about changing the circumstances and adding jobs to the market? If my problem is my body isn't healthy anymore, isn't that difficult to change? My point is some circumstances aren't changeable so this email is overly ambitious. But it is good to be coffee I think. If nothing else, when you are coffee, people will depend on you to wake them up. Plus, not everyone likes eggs. Coffee, even if you hate the taste, still smells good.

Money

The dollar. Money can buy a house, but not a home. It can buy a clock, but not time. It can buy you a position, but not respect. It can buy you a bed, but not sleep. It can buy you a book but not knowledge. It can buy you medicine but not health. It can buy you blood, but not life. So you see money isn't everything, and it often causes pain and suffering. I tell you this because I am your friend and as your friend I want to take away your pain and suffering. So send me all your money, and I will suffer for you. After all, what are friends for?

ahh Rutgers and life in good ol' NJ

Crying when you're sick is bad. It irritates the sinuses and only makes you feel worse. Usually the only reason you are crying is because you already feel bad from being sick, so it is pointless to cry. Therefore, I should not.

I thank God every day my parents had the money to get me a degree in Theater Arts.

Next degree: a health profession, so when I get upset I can eat homemade fried oreos.

Whats the opposite of a fever?

I'm running an underfever of 97.4. I am achy and cold all over and my nose has not stopped running since I cleaned my room like a madwoman yesterday. My throat hurts from the postnasal drip. Orange juice would be yummy if only it didn't hurt so much going down. Sleeping would be fun if the room would stop pulsing when I lie down.

Maybe I should check the temperature again and see if there was a mistake. Hmm... yep. 97.7. That's still an underfever. What do you call it anyway?

9-11 memorial

On September 11, 2000, my good friend C discovered her mother had passed away in the bedroom, only in her 40s. This day of mourning belonged to her before it ever belonged to America. The terrorist attacks not only stole lives, but took away a day that should have been private. Today I remember C before I remember NYC.

Just the same, it is impossible to get through the day without someone somewhere mentioning memorials. I happened to be down near Rutgers when mom left a voicemail. "Please, if you can, stop by at the memorial that 99.1 FM is doing. If it weren't so far away I'd go myself, but you will be passing by it on your way home."

The memorial in question was organized by a local Christian radio station. I believe the idea for it was based on the old saying about people who have to step up and fill your shoes when you leave a position. The premise is that when those people died they left a lot of empty shoes to fill. Listeners were asked to donate shoes in memory of lost loved ones. Mom asked for pictures, so I figured I'd stop in. Its been an emotional week anyway, and September 11 is just icing on the cake... if cake is equivalent to tears. That made no sense, but yeah that's the frame of mind I'm in right now.




The kid was kind of acting up, but this is him calming down, and a second after I snapped the picture, he moved in and gave his dad a hug.


2000 pairs of shoes...


Today was appropriately rainy.


Fireman's boots.


"Your granddaughters are beautiful; last week their daddy was inducted into the Yonkers Fire Department, please be with him."


My friend's father was a firefighter. As we both graduated from high school, and then college, I periodically thought of him. She's married now; I hope heaven is like the Family Circus clouds, where they look down on earth like they're watching TV. I hope he's enjoying the view.







I had to go back to the car for tissues but then I walked around again. Driving home, the rain became torrential. I was going 45 in a 65 zone, and couldn't see the cars 20 feet ahead of me. I had to follow a car with trouble lights on because I could see the yellow lights. Red taillights were invisible. I didn't mind though. It seemed appropriate, like all of heaven is crying today.

A story...

Soooo. Several of you know the story of our cats. But not all. So here goes. When our indoor-outdoor cat, Fluffy, died a few years ago, my parents decided no more pets. They wanted to be free to travel without hiring a neighbor kid to take care of them.

That worked for a while, until mom began to feel the effects of the empty nest as my brother and I got older. I went to college and she rescued an abused guinea pig. My brother went to college and she started feeding some wild cats. Eventually, my parents made the decision to have all the cats fixed in order to prevent mom from becoming the Cat Lady with 56 cats. The first one they caught had feline HIV, so he had to be put down. Another died on the busy street outside my house. The next one, Slinky, came away disease-free, and also future-generation-free. Finally came Sister. The vet said "I can't operate yet, she's pregnant." So mom found an animal hospital that was willing to do cat abortions. She got there and the vet's assistant said, "I volunteer at the animal shelter and we have a waiting list for kittens so I'd like to take care of Sister until the babies are weaned." She talked mom into it and as a result, Sister, a wild cat, spent the entire summer in a dog cage. She had room, but she was used to having acres to run around in. So in my opinion they tortured her, when they really should have just gone ahead with the abortion. But they are all cat freaks over there, so its totally unthinkable that you kill kittens. Funny how no one bats an eye anymore when you say that about a human abortion.

But, one day mom got a phone call saying "Congratulations, you're a grandma!" A few more weeks went by and the kittens were weaned, and Sister cried for them all night. A few days later (this morning), Sister received her little hysterectomy, and mom took the kittens. Amazingly, there was a huge waiting list for kittens two months ago, but for some reason now that they are born, no one wants them. Fancy that. So mom went to see Sister under the effects of anesthesia, and picked up the kittens and brought them home, "until they can be put in good homes." My parents don't know it yet, but we are keeping at least one of them. We already need someone to come over and feed Slinky and Sister when we go away, so if there are two, why not another?

Anyhoo... We need some naming suggestions:


When I walked in the kitchen and picked this one up, he took a flying leap out of my arms from 5 feet up. He also climbs on things, and in general, is a daredevil. He has huge ears, and when he is tired, plops himself down on the floor wherever he darn well pleases. Some suggested names for him have been: Yoda, Jack, Evel Knieval, Evil, Lyle (from the movie Italian Job- Lyle's nickname was Evel Knieval).



This one is friendly. She is quite comfortable around people, and likes to play with gusto. She has huge feet and also has markings that are unique from her siblings' markings (the stripes go along the body instead of down the sides). At the moment she has a little digestive problem. Some suggested names for her have been Spez (a cross between Spaz and Sped), Snowshoes, Stinky, Tiger, or some version of the word Ocelot. However, Ocelot will be voted down unless a unique version of it can be found because there is already a cat in the family named Elsie Ocelot.



The third one looks a lot like the male in the litter, except a darker shade. She can be friendly, shy, playful, or adventurous, depending on her mood. She's a lot like me actually. She hit all those moods in the space of an hour. Some suggested names have been Minnie, Baby, Runt, Marty, Shadow, and Little. As in, "Hey what's your cat's name?" "It's Little." "I can see that but what's her name?" "She's Little." "I hate you."

Lastly, there have been two suggestions for group names; in the order of the pictures they are: Yacko, Wacko, and Dot
Linus, Lucy, and Peppermint Patty.

Please vote on your favorite names!!