The first fruits of our labor. Some of them are black, and some are golden.
Morgan picked one out of the bowl for further investigation...
...but she didn't actually eat it. It didn't make a good toy, either. Too flimsy.
Spouse is building us a cat tree. No one seems to mind that it isn't finished yet.
There was mention elsewhere of big hair, and I felt it necessary to embarrass myself by posting pictures of some of my more celebratory 'dos. From left to right, you may observe Obsidian Kitten in 1986, 1988, and 1989.
No wonder I now demand a cut that requires no more than a towel-dry.
"One thing was certain, that the white kitten had had nothing to do with it--it was the black kitten's fault entirely." (L. Carroll, Through the Looking Glass)
I'm Yankee-Born and Southern-Raised, which makes me kind of Southern Gothic (in the old literary sense of the word). After 15 years in the Big Apple, I spent 4 years on a farm in Michigan raising chickens and llamas and learning to spin, knit, and needle-felt. Now I'm back home in NYC with my much-beloved spouse and one crazy tortiseshell cat. You can also find me on Ravelry.com as okitten.