Next they'll be crashing the red tent

I went to a baby shower this weekend and I have to say there were an alarming number of men there. And I'm not just talking about one or two dudes, say the father and the husband of the shower-ee, showing up at the very end to say thanks and help cram all the crap they got into the back of the SUV. No, there were several men there, right from the beginning and throughout the event, sitting at the white table-clothed cafe tables, admiring the flowers, eating the bite-sized quiches and crustless finger sandwiches, oohing and ahing over the parade of little pastel outfits and stuffed animals and blankets, passing around photo albums and hogging all the babies. And this was not one of those horrible Jack and Jill showers. It was just a regular old girls-only shower. But for some reason these men felt compelled to attend. Maybe they were afraid they would miss out on some prime gossip or some tips on breastfeeding or something.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't there a time when men would have rather died than attend a baby shower? Or, at the very least, wasn't there a time when they just would have been too lazy and disinterested?

No dogs allowed

An outrage!

The dog is always baffled when her people go somewhere without her.

One more here.

Look what the cat dragged in ...

I'd just like to say that this year's spring clean-up is superior to all other spring clean-ups by a mile. I whacked weeds, raked and bagged leaves, pulled rocks and roots out of the ground, dug holes and planted flowers. I beautified the HELL out of my yard.

But more importantly, for the first time in my life I bought and spread mulch. Mulch has always intimidated me. There are so many colors to choose from, so many different materials and scents. How many bags do you need? How thick do you spread it? Where should you put it? And those bags are heavy! I feel like you ought to have a truck if you're going to be buying mulch.

Anyway, the yard does look very pretty, the mulch is neatly (if a little bit too thinly) spread. And the spring cleanup is done, more or less, except for the watering, the mowing, and the occasional weed-pulling.

Oh, and the picking up of the cat poop.

As soon as I spread that first bag of mulch, every cat in the neighborhood came running. Apparently, my yard now looks and smells like a freshly-cleaned litter box. That pine scent--it's irresistible! Those woody fibers--so luxurious to the paw! And look! She's decorated it with a little troll! How kitchy!

A quick search online turns up dozens of lovely ways to discourage the cats: scatter around some thorny branches from a rose bush, spray commercial cat repellents or spread home-made deterrents, such as orange rinds or Vicks Vapo Rub, spray them with a water pistol (though I haven't actually caught any in act and, um, don't really want to, either). If it gets much worse I might have to buy a "cat-crow." (Someone at that company's been abusing Photoshop, I think.)

My favorite idea so far: Bury mouse traps under the mulch. That'll teach the disgusting little bastards.