Walmart Vs. Apache Plaza

The other day I had a traumatic experience at the Walmart. Walmart is HUGE here and this store scares me so... it’s huge, weirdly lit, and full of the oddest characters and oddest merchandise. And yet, I find myself in it often, deliciously enticed by its oddities. However there is so much more to my feelings about this store, than just the store itself. Let me explain:

When I was little, growing up in New Brighton Minnesota, a St. Paul suburb my parents still live in, there was this great little mall just off of Silver Lake Road in the adjacent neighborhood called St. Anthony. The mall was called Apache Plaza and it was fabulous! It was a small mall, not like those huge crazy ones today, there was nothing cookie cutter about this mall. It was all one level and you could literally walk the perimeter of it in say seven minutes, maybe five? That, of course, is without stopping to shop.


Stores that were housed here included my favorite, Marco Polo Imports, a tiny shop in the middle of the mall that had tons of crazy, weird jewelry and gifts; Jolly's Hobby Shop, my bro's fav place; The Beauty Center where Linda cut my Dad's hair; a tiny JC Penny with the Pixie Studio where my aunt worked and took all of our childhood photos; Two Plus Two; Minnesota Fabrics; Braun’s' Fashions; Woolworth’s; The Little Professor Book Store; the secretive Scarpellie’s Restaurant; and, the oh so seedy Apache Wells where those that took to the ‘Devil's Brew’ often could be found...if I wasn’t seven at the time I most frequented the Plaza, you would have found me at the Wells.

In the basement of the mall was Queen's Court dance studio, where I flubbed up taking ballet and tap and my bro successfully took break dancing; a tanning studio; and a weird Weight Watcher's Center. There was also a bowling alley where my parents played in a league every Wednesday night. While my parents competed on the lanes, my brother and I roamed around playing video games with the other kids, chomped on fries and candy at the refreshment counter, and often bought the oddities of the establishment's weirdest vending machine. This machine dispensed anything and everything from tweezers and a mini sewing kit to packs of Beemans and a single serving of Bazooka Joes, but my most favorite thing we ever bought from this machine was the miniature smoking monkey. This special little monkey came with miniature ‘cigarettes’ and real matches. So, there we were, about eight of us 7 to 10 year-old kids lighting the matches up to the monkey’s tiny cigarette resting in his mouth. Once lit we watched in absolute glory as the monkey puffed and puffed his little cigarette away.

Okay, I'm a little off track in reminiscing about this mall, and from the title of this post, I guess we all know that Apache Plaza will win the showdown of St. Anthony consumer stores hands down, and how could it not!!?? The place had smoking monkeys! And let's not forget the mall’s wonderful events and entertainment features. There was a fountain in the middle for penny wishing; an actual huge toy train that took the kiddies around the whole mall for fun, special dress-up days like Pajama day and, of course, Halloween, and on certain nights—usually a weekend—crazy Midnight Madness sales!


Over time though, like all good things, Apache was coming to a sad end… the mall deteriorated and faced challenges, such as being hit hard by a tornado in the late 80s. Soon the only stores left at the mall included a Hallmark shop and Anderson’s Furniture. However the space persevered and became a hot spot for craft fairs and Flea markets, and if only in small spurts, the mall came back to life again.

In 2004 it was the end of the end as the building was demolished to make way for a new, flashier consumer haven, the ever popular fancy suburban strip mall complete with a Cold Stone Creamery (sugary yuk); Caribou/Starbucks, whichever chain that drove a nearby mom & pop coffee shop out of business; of course Chipolte, some Noodle chain, etc. You get the point. And of course, there was the Walmart headlining the demolition. And that brings me full circle to that traumatic experience that just happened a few days ago at the Walmart.

I am perusing the ginormous aisles looking at the craft goods, frozen foods selections, and eyeing the limited edition of the Sex & The City Movie, all the while listening to the wails of a screaming child. In the back of my head I am thinking about Apache, as that ghostly mall haunts my thoughts every time I come home. The screams seem to be getting louder. As I turn the aisle I see the small child that is making these horrific noises, a little boy, about four-years-old and in absolute agony about something that happened upon him in his early life. Just above him I see his mother, standing where I can only guess is where I purchased my first pair of ‘dangly’ earrings—hot pink, lace entwined hearts—and she bends down, looks at her crying child and says, "shut the fuck up."

I left immediately. No one and I mean NO ONE, from the Apache Easter Bunny to the owner of the mall's local, crazy card shop Expressions, would have ever said the "F" word in Apache Plaza.

Hands down, Apache Plaza so wins the St. Anthony consumer hot spots showdown.

----------------

In remembering Apache Plaza Mall I came across this great site that I completely recommend for others wanting to relive the memories of this wonderful mall, the Apache Plaza Tribute Site; http://apacheplaza.com/apachepage1.html

Interestingly, and way off subject, but surely interesting to any fans of Lost, the logo for Apache Plaza so reminds me of the Dharma Initiative.


Namaste

Strangers

My sabbatical stop in MinnieSoooootha is so strange. I haven’t lived here in five years and wow already I see such a difference from Chicago—even though both are based in the Midwest.

In Chicago, if someone is angry or annoyed they are not afraid to let you know it, same goes if they are elated or interested in something—strangers don’t have a problem speaking up and just letting their obnoxious thoughts flow... I guess something should be said for the repressed Minnesotans. Thanks all for shutting up because I guess I don’t really want to hear it. Of course this doesn’t keep me from being quiet. I think I scare these Minnesotans. Like the other day in Target I hear a mother and daughter gabbing about something, literally having a loud blasé conversation one foot from my head and I couldn’t help but pipe in; and as soon as I did they both ran far from me with a look of horror. And I'm thinking 'hey you are the ones dishing your crap right in front of me, what did you expect!?'

I have had similar experiences here, such as on the first night of my new job at a local restaurant downtown. I was doing hosting duties and I was all friendly saying such stuff as “Hi! How can I help!? Thanks for coming in! Have a great night!” I know, scary! Okay, not like I’m all cool or that Chicago is cool, but it became very customary there that you develop a relationship with the workers of a restaurant. One just always said goodbye and thank you on your way out to the waitress, manager, etc, even if you were shouting it across the bar; it was just what happened. It was a courtesy. So when I was being all “byeeeee!!!!” to people leaving this place, I got strange reactions. The men looked at me like I was coming on to them and reciprocated my niceties with looks of horror and disgust; the women merely smiled politely, yet secretly as if not wanting to be caught communicating in anyway with a stranger, and then simply squeaked a quick, quiet ‘thanks.’

It was amusing to see these people run from me as if my saying thank you was the worse thing in the world....maybe it’s just me, but I swear I have noticed a clear difference!

Ava Bava!

Ava Bava's official debut! MEOW! How adorable is she!? Her left eye has a scratched cornea, and yet she is STILL perfect! Honey would be proud.

The telly is gone, so I guess it's official!

I sold my television yesterday! So it looks like I am definitely moving to NYC! Wow, the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of preparation and well, parties! Saying goodbye to friends and goodbye to my things has been intense! Without going into extreme details, I have decided to just show some pictures...

A pre-sale kicked off the selling of my apartment in early September. Here my friend Ashley in her new pink hat exits with her friends, all of which are carrying new goodies from the pre-sale!

For my last day at the magazine, September 19, my immediate supervisor bought me a special pink Barbie cake to wish me "Good Luck" in my adventures!

Here I am celebrating and eating the cake with my former co-workers. Yes, many of you know, this was a very joyous day!

Later, those former co-workers and I further celebrated on the rooftop of Rock Bottom.

And then even later, I held a special goodbye FTC (Finer Things Club) Dinner at my apartment for the members of this exclusive club......here some members were overjoyed in trying on many of the outfits I had ready for my sale the following day. (Above Amy models the hot pink pants and black blazer, Camri is donning the turquoise and black sheath dress, while Jen is wearing the elegant black and leopard trimmed suit!)
Here—reminiscent of the famed Papin sister—Amy and Camri take a moment for the camera in these pretty dresses.

The next day was the Sale Soiree—the most anticipated event of September 2008! Buyers noshed on crackers & cheese, edamame, and hummus; sipped white wine; and bought to their hearts' content!

Tanya picked up a vacuum cleaner and Asian print, among other things; Mandy, a tiara; Barb, an Audrey purse; Abby, Kim, Muffy, Jen, and Sarah each found their own treasures, and Julie scooped up the beautiful pink garden table and vintage turquoise chairs among her many treasures!

And another happy shopper, Mary, left in her favorite find—this classy apron with matching rubber gloves! Oh la la.

Thanks to all who helped me celebrate my leaving by buying my stuff!

My Love

(From Wikipedia)
The Black truffle or Black Périgord Truffle (Tuber melanosporum) is named after the Périgord region in France and grows exclusively with oak. Specimens can be found in late autumn and winter, reaching 7cm in diameter and weighing up to 100g. ^[9] Production is almost exclusively European, with France accounting for 45%, Spain 35%, Italy 20%, and small amounts from Slovenia and Croatia.

bla bla bla

All I know Black Truffle is that I love you.

Uninspired? Maybe

Wow, lately I have had nothing.
My blog has been blasé.

Today I bathed a cat. Today I also heard a man ask the cashier at my local mart if he sold ‘single condoms’. And I thought “Man you need more confidence in your 'skillz.'”

My temple hurts, probably because I attacked a bug bite hoping it would behave like a pimple.
Ava had a BIG day today! Ava, that is my new cat. She’s been with me now since August 7, but since day one has undergone some major stress. Let’s see... I had friends over for a bedazzling party and drinks the day after she was adopted; then, two days later, two girlfriends from Minneapolis roared into town. We listened to loud music, drank wine, and danced in front of mirrors. A man broke into my open window while we were away at dinner. Lame ass C.P.D came over to NOT do their job.

The next day I ripped Ava from her somewhat safe abode into my friend’s home with two other cats and five people. Once home she endured workers tearing out windows and replacing them with sturdier news one with bars. She then developed an upper respiratory infection. She began peeing on my bed. I was distraught!

The problem seemed to go away until this past weekend when I discovered a new urine prezzie on my enzymed-to-death mattress. Today I hauled her ass downtown on the train to see the doc. All day she sat in her crate, waiting for an exam. She got prodded and poked and it was discovered the poor boo has had a bladder infection (peeing out of the box is a huge size of that). She then peed in her crate while waiting for me to pick her up at 5.

We walked to the train, in the rain, waited for 30 minutes for a train that wasn’t completely packed. When she finally got home for safety, before she knew it she was being scooped up for a bath.

Poor kitty.

Now I am enjoying a much needed glass of wine and she’s enjoying a much needed bath of her own version. I am SO happy though. The bad peeing was likely a sign of her feeling sick, so she will be okay and not kicked out to the curb.

Aside from kitty world, I am still in the midst of my major change. No, I'm not turning into a man. At the end of the month I am leaving the city to do what I need to do to leave for New York in January. I am slightly freaking out every five minutes. Leaving my cute little apartment will be sad and selling my ‘Jolenie’ things is upsetting. I know they are just things, but still, it’s sad to me.

My friend E called, after getting an umpteenth email about how I feel sad leaving the apartment and all my ‘things.’ She has been very understanding, but today she said, “it’s funny, while I know it’s important to you, I just don’t understand; it’s only stuff.”

I get that. I guess why it’s been important is because decorating is sort of a fun hobby of mine; I get REALLY into it. While I have lots of ‘things,’ everything is organized—everything is meticulously placed. From the miniature rubber kitties on my TV to the tchotkie pigs in my kitchen… but it is only stuff; it doesn’t move me forward and, as E pointed out, the stuff will never love me as I love the stuff.

Poor Ava. I tried to blow dry her ass. That did NOT go over well. Yes, as I type, I am watching her trying to get comfy with wet fur. She’s a vision nonetheless.

So, from a sick cat to freaking out about freaking stuff, I got nothing. Pretty boring in J’s World…I guess I could talk about politics, but what fun would that be? Um, Palin is pretty, but like pretty models, maybe shouldn't speak? Obama is so young and handsome...his wife is utterly annoying! I wonder if McCain stopped at Cosettas for some killer Mostacollie?

Yeah I got nothing in the world of politics either... is it too late in the game to talk about my boyfriend Phelpsie?

For Foxy

Fortunes

Tonight I decided to grab take-out from a Chinese restaurant in my neighborhood that I had never been to before. Rarely am I head-over-heels happy with take-out food from any Asian restaurant—I guess mainly because I have had a lot of bad Asian cuisine—but since I had never been to this place, I had to give it a try. Well, let me tell you, I was pleasantly delighted!

I devoured crab rangoon and a main dish of black and straw mushrooms with tofu in a brown sauce. Yum! Yum! There was a ton of it and now I even have dinner for tomorrow as well! However, the delish food aside, what sold me on the place was the final treat, that is the fortune cookie

Finally I got cookies filled with actual fortunes, rather than silly mini advertisements or funky phrases. And what is most important, obviously, is that these fortunes spoke to me, confirming my own solid intuition of knowing what I need to do.

Okay, let me explain... LOTS has been going on in J's World. Too much! Too much—too handle! Sadly the events as of late, or rather the events of the whole summer of 2008, have not been the most positive. These events have urged me to make a major, quite terrifying, but seriously exhilarating decision—more on the specifics of that decision later. But, of course, while planning for this new chapter in my life I can't help but stop and think, "Am I totally crazy?"

So when I opened my two fortunes—yes I got two!—I felt plain wonderful. The first fortune was sort of a phrase, rather than a true fortune, but noneless it set the tone.
It said:

The principle business of life is to enjoy it.

The second was my fortune that spoke to me, calming the apprehension within:

Ideas you may believe as absurd ultimately lead to success!

Aaaaah! Big breath, big smile!

Until later,
晚安&做个美梦

Thank You Bill Murray

On Friday Bill Murray parachuted from a plane to kick off the 2008 Chicago Air & Water show.

Thank God Bill Murray brings smiles to my heart during stressful, exhausting times.

I am certain...

"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affection and the truth of imagination."

-- John Keats

Technical Difficulties

J's World is experiencing some serious technical difficulties; We'll be back once we get our heads together.

I Heart Frida

Last week, my friend and coworker Brett and I started taking some goofy snapshots at work—I guess you could say we needed a "morale booster"—and some were, of course, posted on Facebook. Well, my gorgeous girl Andrea commented that my pic seemed very "Frida Kahlo", a comment I was all too happy to hear. One of the pics can be seen at the right; I'm thinking the office background is not so Frida, but the colors is what probably sparked such a comment.

I love Frida...it may seem easy, or a cliche, but Frida is nothing but an inspiration, a truly raw woman that lived with conviction and passion. She was in constant physical pain, but that didn't stop her from living and creating. And, like the Latin cultures, Frida's paintings and life were surrounded by gobs of sumptuous, saturated color—yum! A lush world that I long to live in, complete with pinks, reds, blues, flowers, vivid gardens, monkeys, ruby stained lips, luxe black braids, and those killer brows!

Last December, at the Minneapolis Walker Art Center, I got to see the world premiere of the Frida Exhibit in celebration of the 100th anniversary of her birth. The exhibit featured 50 paintings from the beginning of Kahlo’s career in 1926 to the year of her death in 1954. Kahlo's eery, and at times heartbreaking, self-portraits were the focal paintings of the exhibit and these pieces made me feel as if I was peering into her soul.

The exhibit is now at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, if you have a chance, definitely go check it out!

Juicy

Princess says I need to get over my animal/bird obsession for a while. My creative juices have certainly not been flowing lately... but I suspect that is changing...aaah but not tonight, I am much too sleepy to be creative tonight.

Who!?

#**#**#*!#!!#*!!! #**#**#*!#!!#*!!! #**#**#*!#!!#*!!!

As you know I have been nurturing a pigeon family on my porch, two babes were born over the fourth of July week; the babies having been growing bigger each day, except today I came home and as usual, the first thing I do is check on them and guess what? The babies AND their planter/nest are GONE. GONE!!!! Not just the babies, again, the planter/nest are gone as well. According to research, pigeons are raised by their parents for 4 to 6 weeks before they can fly. Those babies were only 2 weeks old!

After some investigating I found the planter/nest in the dumpster, but no babies. WHO WHO WHO would do that!?

I have no clues as to what and why this happened.. they were tucked away in a far corner, the only person that would know they were there is someone who would walk all the way over there... I can only imagine the apartment managers somehow found them and got rid of them or maybe the downstairs neighbor who was bothered by the pigeons? Who knows. The baby pigeons were not strong enough to fly on their own. Again, they were only 2 weeks old! Who could have decided they were worth nothing? I don't *#**#*!#!!#* care for one *#**#*!#!!#* minute if people just think they are flying rats, they were living, breathing animals! Who the *#**#*!#!!#* do we think we are to dictate what species can live on this Earth and what can't?

I am heartbroken. I can only imagine they had a terrible, scary death. And now their parents are coming back to the area and the nest is gone and so are their babes. What must they be thinking?

Here's the little guys at one week old... who could just think these little cuties are disposable?

Starlings Update

In a recent email from Annette from the Chicago Bird Collision Monitors:

"I’m so glad we were able to help those little guys. Both starling babies were doing well and eating eagerly. They’ve gone to Fox Valley Wildlife Center to be raised until they are ready to go back into the wild. It was a busy day for our Chicago Bird Collision Monitors’ hotline – in addition to your two starlings we were able to rescue a wren that injured its beak when it hit a window, a robin that fell from its nest, a goose hit by a car and a cowbird with a broken wing."

Thank you Annette!!! Thanks to people like her the birds of the Loop are that much safer!

More Birds!?

Why do these things always seem to happen to me?

As you know, my faithful blog readers, I have been the 'mother hen' to a family of pigeons for the past month and half. In early June, Mama and Papa Pigeon, Penny & Desmond, scouted out an empty planter on my back porch, and made it their home. Within a few days Penny laid an egg, three days later, she laid another egg.

For about 18 days, Pen & Des took turns sitting on those eggs morning and night, keeping them warm and safe. While I was away on vacation those two eggs hatched and out came Little Kevin and Baby Whitney, two of the cutest little baby pigeons I have ever seen!

After losing Honey, watching this little family grow has been good for me. Without Honey, one of the hardest parts of the day is turning the key in my front door lock, opening the door, and being greeted by a memory. The pigeon family has given me something to look forward to. Silly? Maybe—especially since many of you consider these creatures to only be flying rats, but they are quite fascinating and comforting to me.

Last Sunday, I began to worry the babies had been abandoned. I realized the mother hadn’t been around for a couple days, or at least I hadn’t seen her for a couple days. From my understanding, of the little research I did on pigeon rearing, the mother and father take care of the babies for at least 4-6 weeks. It had only been about one week. While I love this little family, I know I am not up for the task of taking care of two baby pigeons.

So, after taking a good look at them that night, and Monday morning, I figured the parents must be coming when I’m not looking because of two positive signs: one, the babies are growing fast; and two, they showed fight in them if I came too close.

Wait, I am getting off track, because this post really isn’t about Penny, Desmond, Kevin, or Whitney, but rather it’s about how such animals, helpless, sweet animals, especially birds, seem to land at my feet, requesting my help. Let me explain.

I leave for work this morning, out the back door—part of my ritual in checking on the family—and I see the mama is back, but this is not what I notice first. Nope. What I see first is a teeny, tiny baby bird squawking on the porch, inches from the family pigeon planter. What I see next is another teeny, tiny bird lying helpless in a nearby flowerpot. I immediately think “What the hell!?” Then, out of knowing that it seems to be my duty in dealing with these situations, I put down my purse, kick off my heels, and call work. “Yes I’ll be running late today.”

These damn birds are going to get me fired, I think. The one little guy is squawking its heart out, while the other one, in the planter, looks as though he’s at death’s door. And, I notice black crows high above licking their chops. I cannot bear this.

I go inside, get on the computer and type the words ‘bird help Chicago’ into Google and up comes the Chicago Bird Collision Monitors (773/988-1867). I call them and speak with Annette who turns out to be a life safer—literally—a bird life saver.

Annette and I talk about the situation. I tell her it appears as if they were just dumped on the porch. Annette asks about a nest and says if I can get them back in their nest, their mother will accept them and take care of them.

I start looking for a nest and see, in the rafters area, directly above my third story porch, is a small nook that is housing the nest; it’s impossible for me to get them back there. Annette says she can come and pick up these little guys so long as I can get them in a box and put them in a safe, warm area, preferably inside. I agree to the task.

I scoop up the babies and put them in a shoebox—one that normally houses a fantastic pair of red patent leather pumps. The little one from the porch is seriously squawking, while the one in the flowerpot doesn’t have much fight left. I am worried, but know help is on the way.

Once inside I run a hot shower to steam up the bathroom, and when sufficiently hot, I turn off the water and bring the birds in the room. They are not snuggling to each other so I give them each a tuft of toilet paper for comfort, tell them they will pull through this—words of encouragement can help!—and I shut the door. Twenty minutes later Annette arrives; I retrieve the babes and am happy to see the weaker of the two seems a tad bit stronger as he's making noise, and they are even snuggling a bit!

I bring them to Annette who tells me that are baby Starlings and certainly would have died had they just been left on the porch. She says what often happens is that there just isn’t enough room for all the babies in one nest so, sometimes, one or two will get accidentally knocked out of the nest. I’m not sure if these little guys will survive, but at least I know that they will not have a horrible death.

Now, going home tonight, I fear what I will find on my porch this evening? An injured crow? A giant owl, or maybe a Bald Eagle!!??

All I know, as sappy as this sounds, the only animals I want to find on my porch is Miss. Honey and sweet Xena.

It's a bird and a bird!

While I was away in Minnesota this past week Penny and Desmond's babies hatched! Now presenting little Kevin and baby Whitney.

Family

It's weird... I was a family with these special felines...and now I am alone. I miss my girls SO MUCH. My heart still aches. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Xena and I did with Honey and all I can think is did I say goodbye good enough? Did I hold her tight and tell her thank you and I love you? I'm sure I did, but that day was like a sad dream that I can not completely remember, and I can't help but think I didn't say goodbye good enough.

Loss & Life

It’s been 10 days since Honey has left this Earth to go to kitty heaven, a place, I am told by friends, is chock full of catnip and free of physical pain. I know she is no longer in pain, and I am truly happy about that, but my heart still aches for her. Often I look for her here at home—out of habit—and then I remember, she is gone. This happens a lot.

I have been going through many emotions; sadness, guilt, loneliness, confusion, and happiness. Yes I said happiness. Happiness because, like I said before, she is no longer in pain, (I had been worried about her suffering since her heart disease diagnosis in February), and happiness also because of my good memories of her and the loving support I have received from family and friends.

I have received numerous emails and cards of condolences. Today I received a beautiful card and the image of the kitty on the front looks exactly like Honey. One of my first thoughts, after looking at this card, was that I needed to display it in a safe spot so it doesn’t get shredded. But then I remembered: Honey and her habit of shredding paper are gone forever.

The worst part of everything, well okay not the worst part—the worst is her just not being here—but the ‘other’ worst part is the analyzing. I have analyzed the days before June 7. I wonder, on one of those days ‘did I forget her pill?’ For the record I was good at pilling her every morning, it became synonymous with brushing my teeth, but there are moments here when I have convinced myself that I screwed up. It’s horrible. I wonder if I had rushed her in the minute I thought she was just acting a little lazy from the heat, would she still be here?

But alas, she had heart disease, the end would have been the same no matter what, it was just a matter of time. My Honey had a good life; I know that through and through. I can feel her spirit hanging with me, assuring me she is happy and felt very loved, but she really misses me too.

Where there is death, there is life.....

On a much cheerier and quite interesting note, on June 14, exactly one week from the day Honey passed, I discovered a bit of life on my back porch. Near my 'tropical garden', on the floor of the deck, is an empty planter that has been turned into a nest for a newly expectant pigeon couple.

After a little research I discovered pigeons mate for life and both help in rearing the egg incubation period.

The male will tend to the egg early morning til mid afternoon and the mother will be there from late afternoon throughout the evening. I have named this pigeon couple Penny and Desmond.

Today I discovered something even more exciting than Saturday’s news. There’s a second egg! I will be documenting this of course, for all to see!

Rest in Peace

On Saturday, June 7, my sweet Honey passed away; she was 13 years old. My heart is forever broken. She was my best friend and I miss her deeply. The doctor tried to do everything possible to save her life, but her little heart and lungs were just not cooperating.

I can only hope she was as happy with me as I was with her. I do know she was the perfect cat, so sweet, so snugly, so adoring. She never behaved badly and always remained cute. I always told her that when God made her he only chose love and chocolate to make her, and inside of her was nothing but paper hearts of pink and red... yes I was obsessed with her and I am not one bit ashamed to admit. Like I said, she was my best friend, never ever did she ever give me grief, never ever did she treat me badly. She treated me like a queen always—how could I not put a being like that on a pedestal?

Following is a collection of the most recent photos of Honey taken just this past month.

This was Honey's favorite rug; a piece of 'swag' from work. The minute I brought it home she declared it her own.

This is one of my fav positions of Honey; she was always super chill and relaxed. I loved that I could be so incredibly loud, singing, and dancing around and she was, from day one, always chillin like a villain with complete trust.

She was also so sweet to placate to my foolishness.

I bought this hat just a couple weeks ago. I was so excited and I plopped it on her head; she obliged for a couple snapshots, but she was obviously not amused.

Here is Honey in one of her favorite snuggle spots, right next to my computer in the kitty nook. Typing and Internet surfing is not the same without my writing partner.

Again, my fav chill position, this time with her favorite toy: a pillow full of catnip. Hmmm maybe that is why she was always so chill?

My friend Jen is not a cat person, but even Jen was seduced by Honey. Yes Jen is the one petting Miss H.

Honey was always the life of the party and had to be in the middle of all the action. Sadly this is the last photo ever taken of Honey on May 27. I wish I had known what was going to happen. I wouldn't have left her side for one minute.

And finally, the last photo of Honey and I together taken May 24.

Rest in Peace sweet girl. Thank you for everything. xoxox

P.S. I am still waiting for her to come out from the closet from her nap, I mean she HAS to, right?