The world is a lot less stardusted today. A great constellation has fallen: “great,” in every sense except size.
Cats: not one of them is faking it, and every single one of them is making it. Us, we’re a bit different. But we can still learn.
Are you jumpy, kittens? Does this itchy, agitated world of ours have you jittery about June, and joy’s odds of survival, and the existence of jumping worms that clone themselves? Then you’ve come to the right place.
There is a reason we flat-iron our fluffy curls and jimmy our gelatin into “control-top” garments and calibrate our colors to the vibe of the moment. There is a reason we rewrite our heartfelt letters and pummel our poetry into prose and hunker in the bunker of all that is safe and beige. The reason […]
There are times when you look like a mighty oak, but if a passerby should sneeze, you would collapse into a molehill. There are times when everyone marvels at you as you manage departments and families and budgets, but what you need more than anything is to play with scissors and construction paper and crayons […]
Cats undoubtedly have their concerns: plant-based sausage, the pleasures and pitfalls of nostalgia, the diminishing likelihood of a One Direction reunion. But, by and large, small or large, they are not a species prone to worry. They are, accordingly, a species poised to save us from ourselves.
I can’t tell you much about Wordle. Not the game: savage Scrabbler, Boggler, and Bananagrammer though I am, I have no little green and yellow squares to show you. Not the cat: he has arrived just one hour hence. But I can tell you a thing or two about what words can and cannot do.
If I were to hold public office, my first act would be to end war and redirect every battle-dollar to feeding everyone of every species, preferably at the same table, whilst we all sing ballads and talk tenderly about our edifying differences. My second act would be to mandate that we all use the word […]
Heartbroken preface: one of the perils of writing these posts weeks in advance is that, sometimes, “tomorrow” knows terrible things that I don’t. At the time I wrote the following, Alvin was at the peak of his zest. Days later, his health took a tumble, then a turn for the terrible. Despite the tireless efforts […]
I’m going to let you in on a secret. We’re all a bunch of miracles around here. We are simultaneously a bunch of buffoons. Ergo: it is high time to blow up the biggest, brightest balloons.