Mornings at the Bon house typically go something like this: My son (Grayson) wakes up around 7 a.m.; all hell breaks loose with the cats shortly thereafter. Non-stop meowing, jumping up and clawing the walls, unattended food plates knocked to the floor. It makes for a pretty nerve-racking start to the day.

Vinnie, the youngest of the two hairball bros, isn’t so much rambunctious as he is paranoid. He walks through life mired in anxiety, his face looking like he just got mugged. This is the same guy who occasionally goes primal and relieves himself on the laundry room floor. Hell, why should he overextend himself and take that extra step into the litter box? That might cut into his “me time.”

In Vinnie’s defense, these accidents only occur when the washing machine’s been running sometime in the last 24 hours. I guess the hum of a turn cycle – or mere thought of it – frightens him. Who knows? At this point, I don’t even ask questions… Just grab the paper towels, 409 sanitizer and wipe up what’s left of my dignity.

Even so, Vinnie isn’t that bad. The real problems stem from Mario – a feline version of Gallagher, who insists on destroying stuff to get attention. Maybe he’s “acting out” because of Grayson. Maybe he’s more jackass than cat. Whatever the case, his bag of shenanigans is the gift that keeps on giving.

He’s the only lactose intolerant feline I know. Every day, he leaps up onto Grayson’s highchair and licks clean yogurt cups, bowls of cereal milk, etc. He then proceeds by vomiting, not on the hardwoods (which run throughout the entire house), but on the only surface rug we own. This happens once every 24 hours. I don’t know who’s dumber: him for repeatedly lapping up the very thing that sends him into throw-up fits or us for leaving the damn stuff out.

Last week, Sarah finally snapped and declared her hatred for the whiskered hurler. While cracking open a new bottle of the 409, she blurted out, “I’m so sick of this. I swear I’m going to open the door and let him run out.”

She was very mad. I could tell because she kept repeating the same thing to an empty room. Correction. Mario was there watching her clean up his snack gone horribly awry. It was almost like he was mocking her, saying, “Yeah, I ate it, and I’m going to do it again tomorrow. You just smile, and be ready with the paper towels, sweetheart.”

Later that day, he snuck into Grayson’s room during nap time. Positioned under the crib, he waited until Sarah finally got Grayson to doze off. Minutes after she laid him down and left, Mario starts bellowing this ungodly moan. We didn’t know what it was until we realized it was resonating from the baby monitor.

“That little EXPLITIVE is going to wake up Grayson,” Sarah said before dashing off to get him out of there. When she opened the door, Mario darted under the crib once again. The next two minutes made for a battle of the ages. She’d reach for Mario with one arm, and he’d refuse to leave. After some meows and an onslaught of mumbled curse words, a broom handle shoved violently toward the cat’s body finally convinced him to move elsewhere.

The whole feud came to a head that evening. Sarah had fallen asleep on the couch. I gave her the old “Let’s go to bed” try. When I’m tired, I say it once. If there’s no takers, so be it. I headed into our room and collapsed onto the mattress, Mario jumping up and curling beside me. “This is nice,” I thought. “There’s nothing wrong with this cat – she’s the instigator.” An hour later, a boisterous rant rattled me from my sleep.

“Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?” Sarah stood yelling and pointing. “Look what he did. Are you kidding me?”

I propped myself up to see Sar staring down at a nice little pool of Mario upchuck on her pillow. I must admit, he was considerate about the whole thing, making very little noise when it actually occurred. I slept right through it.

Still, my wife was not so impressed. In fact, she was out for blood. We ultimately swapped places in bed, and I took one for the team.

The next few days following that whole debacle, Mario was smart enough to stay out of her way. As far as I can tell, relations between the two are on the mend. Nonetheless, I can’t help but worry we’re only a Yoplait cup away from all-out war.

Is it motherhood, breaking the 30 barrier last year, being stuck indoors because of the “cold” weather…? Whatever the reason, I recently entered a crafty phase in my life. Please, don’t laugh – even though this is coming from the girl who can’t sew a button, tie a decent bow, cut a straight line, etc.

I’ve always looked up to those craftier than myself, which is just about anybody. My mom can sew, paint, make jewelry, marble… My sister Katie definitely inherited the artsy genes out of the three girls – I say that without a hint of jealousy:) My mother-in-law recently started her own custom jewelry business, and her queue remains full. My aunts can turn trash into works of art. My neighbor, Dawn, can wrap a gift that would be fit to give to royalty. I could go on and on.

So this year when my mom asked what I wanted for Christmas for the nth time, I half-jokingly said, “Um, how about a metal jewelry stamping set?” The night before I had been admiring some necklaces on Etsy.com and thought, “How hard could it be? Besides, I’m not paying $30 for that. Maybe $10 or $12…” Yes, I could have just put the necklace on my list. But like I said, something had brought my crafty cells to life.

What the heck was I thinking?!

So on Christmas morning instead of opening a jewelry box containing a necklace with Grayson’s name stamped on it, I received a Rubbermaid plastic bin filled with all the tools needed to make my own bling. Inside was a hammer, steel letters and numbers, BLANK sterling silver, brass discs as well as squares.

With a head full of ideas, names and quotes, I was ready to stamp. WRONG! It’s not as easy as it looks. First, there’s figuring out how to hit the stamp on practice Post-it’s (note: it’s nothing like hammering a nail). Then it’s trying to somewhat align the letters. The good part is that it doesn’t have to be “perfect,” which is part of why this could be the craft for me. Finally, you try not to psyche yourself when the actual metal blank is on the stamping block. My first piece: a nametag for Cohen. Luckily, he’s a dog and doesn’t care how bad it looks. I’ve done a few more, and while I have a ways to go before wearing anything I make, I’m having fun. I’ve also discovered pounding on metal works as a great stress reliever.

I assumed I was a one-craft woman until last weekend. While Grayson and his friend Sophie played, I interrogated Sophie’s mom about how she made the nameplate strung above her little one’s crib. I’ve kept one of Grayson’s walls blank, waiting to buy something to hang, stick, paint, etc. This was it! And Hilary assured me it was easy.

With a list of supplies, I headed to the craft store. I bought everything I needed and then some, coming out a card-carrying A.C. Moore Rewards member. That night I stayed up past 10 p.m. armed with paint, tape, scissors and glue. Success!

What’s next for this aspiring Martha Stewart? Maybe I’ll start a blog called Sarah and Martha that will chronicle my attempt to create my way through Martha Stewart’s Encyclopedia of Crafts: An A-to-Z Guide with Detailed Instructions and Endless Inspiration. Ha! I know my limitations. I’ll stick with one or two crafty aspirations – at least for now.

We wish we could be like Oprah and give the audience our “Favorite Things.” When we appear on Forbes’ billionaire list, we’ll make it happen Until then, you’ll have to cover the cost with the checks Santa hopefully left in your stocking.

All of this year’s picks just so happen to be Wilmington products/stores/etc. Don’t forget to shop local. It’s not just a statement, it’s a movement. Check out the grassroots campaign Buy Local ILM on Facebook and Twitter.

In alphabetical order:

Boca Bay, Brasserie du Soleil, Circa 1922, Grand Union Pub, Osteria Cicchetti
www.bocabayrestaurant.com
Ash Aziz is the Midas of restaurants in this town. Every establishment he opens is gold – from the food to the atmosphere. When we can’t decide where to eat out, we always end up at one of his places. Of course, then it’s tough to pick which one (maybe we need a rotation schedule). Some of our favorite menu items: everything on the Sunday Brunch (Boca Bay), Steak Au Poivre with Pommes Frites (Brasserie du Soleil), Tapas (Circa 1922), Papardalle Bolognese (Osteria Cicchetti) and the Carolina burger with pulled pork, vinegar slaw and pickles (Grand Union Pub).

Children’s Museum of Wilmington Family Fun Pass
www.playwilmington.org
If you have kids, this is a great place to take them. For less than $100, you can buy a pass to get you, another adult and your child(ren) in all year. Grayson’s grandparents got this for him this Christmas. He loves hanging out in the Toddler Gallery, and we get a hoot out of watching him “talk” to the other kids.

Crescent Moon
www.crescentmoonnc.com
Located in the Cotton Exchange downtown, Crescent Moon sells fine, hand-crafted glass and metal art. Their aim is to “to offer an affordable selection of fine handcrafted art glass by renowned artists in North America, and to make your art-collecting or gift-giving a pleasurable experience.” Mission accomplished!

DeMarco Studio
www.wilmingtonhealthcoach.com
We were fortunate to be invited to a five-course dinner prepared by chef extraordinaire Kevin DeMarco. I never knew healthy food could be so good! Kevin, who also happens to be a personal trainer, believes in the 60/40 Philosophy: 60% healthy eating and 40% exercise. We were so impressed with his food that our Christmas present to our parents was a gift certificate for a five-course meal prepared by Kevin.

Glynne’s Soaps
glynnesoaps.com
Soaps – for people and their four-legged best friends – lotions and more, Glynne’s products are all natural and earth friendly. They make a good bar of beer soap. Who knew hops could also be refreshing on the skin? They happen to use beer from one of our favorite downtown hangouts – Front Street Brewery – as well as from FootHills Brewery and RJRocker’s.

“How to Massage Your Pregnant Partner”
www.relax-productions.com
When we decide to have another Baby Bon, this DVD will be loaded in the player at all times. Gretchen Rivas, a local licensed massage therapist, teaches partners how to properly massage moms-to-be. Lower back pain, leg cramps, pounding headaches, etc. can make life pretty uncomfortable. Tylenol never did the trick. But the techniques Gretchen teaches can offer much needed relief. This DVD makes a great gift for you or for someone else.

Mama Lou’s BBQ Sauce
www.mamalousbbq.com
Never one to pass up BBQ, we know our sauces. While we like all styles – whether the base is tomato, vinegar, mustard, ketchup, a dry rub… – there’s one sauce that has made it to the top of our list. Mama Lou’s is sweet, spicy, smoky – it’s the best of all kinds in one bottle. You can find it at local shops, including Fire and Spice Gourmet in the Cotton Exchange.

The Metropolitan Opera Live in HD
uncw.edu/caic/events-cultural.asp
You don’t have to fly to New York City to see some fantastic operas. Just hop on over to UNCW to catch one of the last two showings of the season – Der Rosenkavalier or Carmen. The first transmission of this Peabody and Emmy Award-winning series was a condensed English-language version of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte on December 30, 2006. To order tickets, call (910) 962-3195.

Peaceful Beginnings
www.peacefulbeginningsnc.com
Amy is not only a good friend, but she also is a great massage therapist. My back and “arthritic” hands can attest to her skills (yes, I know I’m not even 40 and shouldn’t be dealing with these ailments). She also taught us how to massage Grayson – back in the day when he was immobile. We had no idea that baby massage techniques not only relax these little ones, but also relieve gas pains and help with digestion.

Sawgrass
When Rare Cargo closed shop, downtown was left without a place to find unique and affordable gifts. Then Sawgrass opened on Market Street and filled that void. Owners John and Val, who are both artists, keep the shelves stocked with cool finds – from jewelry and home décor to books and handbags.

South ‘n France Bon Bons
www.southnfrance.com
If you haven’t experienced the taste of these handmade, golf-ball sized chocolate drops of heaven, order some now! We always get the sampler because all the flavors are so yummy! Café au Lait, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Coconut, Fudge Brownie, Peanut Buttah and Pistachio. The bon bons alone are fabulous, but what really separates this product from any other containing chocolate are the owners of South ‘n France – Charlene and Pascal. Read their story here http://www.southnfrance.com/le_mariage

Spectrum Art & Jewelry
www.spectrumartandjewelry.com
Walking into Spectrum Art & Jewelry is like stepping into a museum – surrounded by color and beauty in the paintings, glass sculptures, jewelry and other pieces. The only difference is you can buy these works of art. Besides selling the creations of more than 100 American artists, the gallery, located in The Forum, also offers custom jewelry design, fine jewelry repair and monthly events.

Thalian Hall
www.thalianhall.com
Built in 1858, this still-working downtown theatre is a venue for plays, music, movies and more. The Cinematique series offers area residents a chance to see art house films that don’t make the rounds at our local movie theaters.

Vic’s Corn Popper of Wilmington
www.alwayscorny.com
For nearly 20 years, Vic’s has been popping some of the best popcorn you’ll ever eat! People ask why I carry such a big purse. Well, it’s so I can sneak a bag of Vic’s into the movie theater. We’re still working on our holiday canister filled with Half Salt, White Cheddar and Carmel.

The other night, I took advantage of 80-degree weather in October – going for a walk with Sarah and the boy (a.k.a. my son Grayson). Usually, we invite our friends from up the street, who also have a little man.

After a couple of laps around the block, we always end up standing in our cul-de-sac and talking. Other neighbors spill out of their homes into the evening, and it becomes one big, happy party.

Yeah, everyone just kind of unwinds from the day, sharing stories about what they ate for dinner, what home project (fiasco) their husband undertook on the weekend, which neighbor’s yard has gone to hell… You know, subdivision banter.

It always winds up being a good time. That is until the “Bug Guy” makes his appearance. This modern-day monster comes from the depths of the county municipal complex. He drives his pickup truck amidst the veil of night, pumping mystery chemicals into the air. His goal: exterminate mosquitoes. The result: dead insects and extreme fear among the mothers in our community.

Somewhere along the line, word got out you must flee when Bug Guy comes calling. At all costs, get the kids inside. For the love of God, get the kids inside. There’s no factual evidence that running away is necessary, but crazy Susan down the street said… Therefore, it must be true.

It’s quite a site to watch a half dozen women scrambling with strollers, running in all directions for safe harbor. Huh, I can only imagine how the mosquito mommies feel.

Actually, it’s better entertainment than anything on primetime television. Predictably, it always starts with the distant hum of hydraulic sprayers. One mom glances at another, as to say with her eyes: “You hear that, right?” With Bug Guy awareness now elevated, the conversation speeds up a bit.

The rumble of the spray truck makes its way around the bend and cruises along one block over. At this point, someone officially declares, “The bug guy’s spraying.” As if no one else heard his 15-year-old, V-8 engine struggling to maintain 20 mph.

“O.K., well we’ll stop by tomorrow…” Suddenly, the flashing lights atop the truck become visible, throwing orange shadows on the homes at the cul-de-sac’s entrance. Let the mayhem begin.

No more niceties. Mommies with kid walkers grab tiny arms and make a mad dash toward their respective garages. Others sling strollers around, baby heads swaying and bobbing. Utter chaos. Someone yells at a husband for lagging behind, “What’s wrong with you – come on!”

People who haven’t run in years suddenly try to do so without looking like complete fools. There’s not a lot of grace, just winded gasps. The excitement ends with the simultaneous closing of garage doors.

Back in the day (before kids), Bug Guy never posed a threat. Hey, I even remember standing outside with my friend and waving to him. We breathed in, drank beer, laughed – all the while Bug Guy sprayed to his hearts content. Nothing’s wrong with me. Now my friend, that’s a different story. He’s grown a small toe on his elbow.

Happy Halloween!
Steve and the staff at Bon’s Eye