K to the T

I’m so sorry. The people came to our home so we could say goodbye to our 18-3/4-y-o perfect kitty four weeks ago. I just heard a bag rustle and assumed it was her. How sad that it was not. It has gotten a little easier, but not by much. But in your case, and hers, it was the right thing to do.

Yikes. The grammar.

Ikr? Also, “There’s.”

And has terrible grammar.

Fatties and beardos, all of ‘em.

I am no longer on social media except Bluesky. But no one here knew my perfect, geriatric Siamese, Desdemona. We helped her pass last Sunday October 5 on the saddest day of my life, and I am grieving. She was so pretty and good. “The world” needed to know she was real and that she was spectacular.

“…autistic people, and all neurodiverse people, are not problems to be solved but signals we need. They see the world more sharply, notice patterns more clearly, and reveal where our systems are failing. If we ignore them, we lose that guidance. If we listen, we get a truer picture of reality.”

The strawberry sauce or center must taste like a cross between pink penicillin and baby aspirin to be authentic.

I’d gladly skip November Thanksgiving and Christmas and just have three Halloweens.

Wait. What?

Omg! I have this on the TV every Halloween party. I love this sequence at the pool in the basement.

Did they get rid of that now too? My last bowl of tomato soup there came with shitty commercial croutons from a box. I mean, you’re a…bakery…right? No leftover bread to make real croutons?

Hatch Act violation

I wish my kids would want to go to there.

Autumn tree reflecting on a pond

I’m no photographer, and I no longer live on this little pond, but this photo from six years ago was a peaceful day in my life. #sweatahweathah

Add some cucumber and you have a lovely gazpacho!

A Girl with a Watering Can
by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Aneposayswhat?

Insanely awe-inspiring!

Yeah, St. Paul hated women too.

Hope there isn’t a fish in there.

That’s impossible. I’m not that old.

Or IKEA.

I felt this exact way about a herky-jerky pair of northern flickers earlier this week. They made weird noises and did a sort of Monty Python Silly Walk across my deck railing. They made my day.

I don’t think our cats will appreciate that.

Thank you. I needed that today.

Now I get why a recurring dream from my 20s has returned—Rutger Hauer and Billy Zane stalk me through my childhood neighborhood. But I’m clever and run fast. They find me under the bathroom sink and laugh maniacally as they torment me & watch me scream. Except now it’s Leon and Mike Johnson.

Gotta be Cincinnati.

Please?

“Last Dance” by Donna Summer at the YMCA dances. Was awkward slow dancing at the end of the night when the fast part comes in.