Pretty Dress! Tiara! Miauw!
As is my wont, I'm fooling around on the Hero Forge website trying out more possible builds for future use and abuse (finances permitting). I admit that I have more fun doodling than finalizing, but that's what the Hero Forge engine is for! And yes, I'm indulging in my own little tribute to our resident Bast worshiper. One of Ed's games is a Weird West shoot-em-up and since everything's better when done by equal-opportunity butt-kicking catgirls...
"Hey, Pops!"
I pause in my typing. The voice is familiar, high-pitched, possibly young...
"Down here!"
I look down. Katana is sitting beside me, glaring up at me and looking very much as if any second now she is going to put the smackdown on my toes. If she weren't so darn cute, I'd be scared for my toes. Oh, wait. Given how she likes to pounce on anything that moves, I should be! To make sure she has my full attention, she bats at my instep.
"How come you never put me in a pretty dress or something when you do these miniature designs? You've done me as a biker chick and a crazy archaeologist and two kinds of piratical weirdos and a sneak thief and a sci-fantasy battlequeen. Stop that! Stop that right now! I am a pretty, floofy princess and I demand a pretty ballgown. With a tiara!"
This is not the sort of conversation I expect to have with either of the cats. There's no mention of food, for one thing. But I've gotten used to the weird ways of feline persons over the past twenty years. So instead of freaking out I simply smile and reach down to give her a head skritch and speak calmly.
I explain Sensei's First Rule of Combat Fashion to her ("never wear anything you can't fight in"). I talk about the difficulties of athletic exertion in a corset, hoop skirt, and heels. I point out that given how roughly she plays (and how exuberantly active her namesakes are likely to be) a pretty dress would be all tattered and stained and messy in very short order.
It works about as well as pointing and saying "get off the table, Katana!" Which is to say, not at all. She swipes at my knee and repeats her demand.
"Pretty dress! With a tiara!"
Okay, fine. I can be taught. The line of least resistance will be the fastest way to convince her to go somewhere else. I go back to the drawing board and a few more minutes of tinkering produces Lady MacJones, who speaks softly and carries a magic sword. Then I pick her up so that she can get a better look at my handiwork.
Are you happy now, I ask.
"Not bad. Not great, but it's better than a flashlight or something."
Shouldn't you be bothering Darryl, I ask dryly, remembering too late that Katana tends to take everything you say literally and at face value. Her little eyes grow really big and then she scampers off downstairs to rectify her big brother's lack of pestering. And as the ghost of Waylon Jennings would put it, you all know that ain't gonna end well.
Afternote
"Hey, Pops!"
I pause in my typing. The voice is familiar, high-pitched, possibly young...
"Down here!"
I look down. Katana is sitting beside me, glaring up at me and looking very much as if any second now she is going to put the smackdown on my toes. If she weren't so darn cute, I'd be scared for my toes. Oh, wait. Given how she likes to pounce on anything that moves, I should be! To make sure she has my full attention, she bats at my instep.
"How come you never put me in a pretty dress or something when you do these miniature designs? You've done me as a biker chick and a crazy archaeologist and two kinds of piratical weirdos and a sneak thief and a sci-fantasy battlequeen. Stop that! Stop that right now! I am a pretty, floofy princess and I demand a pretty ballgown. With a tiara!"
This is not the sort of conversation I expect to have with either of the cats. There's no mention of food, for one thing. But I've gotten used to the weird ways of feline persons over the past twenty years. So instead of freaking out I simply smile and reach down to give her a head skritch and speak calmly.
I explain Sensei's First Rule of Combat Fashion to her ("never wear anything you can't fight in"). I talk about the difficulties of athletic exertion in a corset, hoop skirt, and heels. I point out that given how roughly she plays (and how exuberantly active her namesakes are likely to be) a pretty dress would be all tattered and stained and messy in very short order.
It works about as well as pointing and saying "get off the table, Katana!" Which is to say, not at all. She swipes at my knee and repeats her demand.
"Pretty dress! With a tiara!"
Okay, fine. I can be taught. The line of least resistance will be the fastest way to convince her to go somewhere else. I go back to the drawing board and a few more minutes of tinkering produces Lady MacJones, who speaks softly and carries a magic sword. Then I pick her up so that she can get a better look at my handiwork.
Are you happy now, I ask.
"Not bad. Not great, but it's better than a flashlight or something."
Shouldn't you be bothering Darryl, I ask dryly, remembering too late that Katana tends to take everything you say literally and at face value. Her little eyes grow really big and then she scampers off downstairs to rectify her big brother's lack of pestering. And as the ghost of Waylon Jennings would put it, you all know that ain't gonna end well.
(picture courtesy of my friend Lanzlo who just happened to catch the two fuzzballs while they were actually enjoying one another's presence.)
No, you aren't seeing double! I posted the first version of this as a throwaway comment on my google+ feed just for fun. Diane read it, gave me the raised eyebrow of spousal curiosity, and asked why I hadn't just made it a regular ol' blog post. So here you go...revised, expanded, and with a couple more photos to go with.
and frankly, this thing was a bear to edit! A page break that wasn't, an entire para that just up and vanished even though it was the same color and font as everything else...
And then I realized that I hadn't fixed the bloody thing the first time and came back in and re-re-fixed it. Because it looked Just Fine behind the scenes and I don't go a-visiting my blog from the outside very often.
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