We got what we asked for. A kitten for the kitten. The Elder cats are getting their rest and keeping their dignity. The humans of the household get to watch and accommodate all the feline needs.
The wild rumpus starts before dawn. Toy stealing. Running, tagging, clawing up and down my (already ratty) office chair. Digging around in the sandbox like somebody has a treasure map.
But they nap like champs. For some reason, I've been calling Bong Moon. As in the Darkside Of. And little Miss Sophie is becoming that Long Tall Sally I saw in her from day one.
There's been a lot of time for mending, reading, writing, and anxious introspection.
Anyone who is not anxious about this upcoming weekend is in prison or a fool. At the very least, I'm hoping the perfect weather holds on.
And smack in the middle of the week, there was another birthday. Lunched with friends and spoke to everyone! Thanks to everyone who took the time to say hey.
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And smack in the middle of the week, there was another birthday. Lunched with friends and spoke to everyone! Thanks to everyone who took the time to say hey.
For a while now, I thought I was turning 77. My sister, who is two years younger, dragged me over the coals for that mistake.
At what age, and why, do we start using the expression, "I'm going to be __ years old"?
When does that anticipation begin?
Was it 17? 20?
Why keep doing it? What is the fucking hurry?
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