Fell into bed at home at 2 am Eastern time, woke up early here waiting for the sun to hurry up and rise already.  Got some catching up to do.

Our grandcats were so funny: they were not allowed in the room we were staying in at our daughter’s for fear of them getting into the knitting and who knows what all else.

Unfortunately, the wireless mouse to my husband’s laptop got left out, never to be seen again, at least not before we left.   I was seen playing with the mouse so it must be important, so away it vanished into the night.

Eve the kitten has gone from a tiny little thing from the last picture I saw of her to being fluffed out now into a beautiful black cat with longish hair and large round green eyes that Sam said make her a perfect Basement Cat.  She’s got a small tuft of extra-long white fur immediately above each of her claws, making her look like a totally soft fluffball of innocence–which didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes at me at one point, glancing upwards while narrowing her eyelids.  Stupid human, just wait till *I* have opposable thumbs! I will open that door *myself*!  My guffawing at her for it did nothing to mollify her. 

Eve tends to follow Anya, the older cat, and copy her.  I left our door open at one point.  Eve was hanging back this time.  Anya came barrelling down that hallway pell mell, trying not to be thwarted this time, and skidded out while trying not to splat into the bed, then did a 360 around it on the slippery newly refinished wooden floor, claws and limbs flying wildly.  I was out of her sight inside the room as she came running and got to hear her coming and then watch her ballet act.  When I laughed, there was the usual cattitude of licking a paw and “I didn’t do that” after I picked her up and escorted her back out.  Too funny.

And when I read a newspaper page on the floor, both cats promptly sat on it, totally covering  up the article.  Sam laughed and said that was classic cat, right there.

But would someone explain to me Anya’s need to lick my pink wool and silk skirt?  Gently, as if it were a kitten. Curious.

I was afraid I would forget my Tuscan cheese from the Cabot factory, and I did, but that just means Sam and her husband get to enjoy it; no complaints there.  I deserved that. I went to the fridge to get it just before we left for the airport after they left for work, let temptation get to me, and swiped a small spoonful of the Ben and Jerry’s Creme Brulee instead.  (Oh. Um.  Hi, Sam!)  That’ll teach me.  But it was definitely a freudian slip, because I knew how much they would love that cheese too. I looked up the local suppliers here of Cabot cheese this morning, and the number of stores within ten miles made me laugh–welcome home to northern California where everybody’s a foodie!

Now if only I could get someone here to start making apple cider doughnuts. I hadn’t ever heard of those before you all said something, and now I have to either find some here (not likely) or try making a batch myself.

A little Cabot’s on the side would go nicely.