It is my solemn privilege to remind you today that you are the human equivalent of 2,000 chocolate bars. I hope you already knew that.
You’ve done it; I’ve done it; I strongly suspect we will both do it again. I’m talking about talking trash about 2020. I think we might have overdone it just a touch.
It’s in the jokes-in-your-head that no one else hears. (“This new loofah just might be the LOOF OF MY LIFE!”) It’s in the perfect hair days seen only by the Amazon delivery man. (“Lookin’ spiffy, Ma’am.”) But is happiness unshared ergo unreal?
Oh kittens. It is my sweet privilege to bring you a great many great and glorious things on this blog. But what you are about to experience is surely a peak Felis Catus moment.
“Life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.” – Annette Funicello “Excellence I can reach for; perfection is God’s business.” – Michael J. Fox “Amen to all that.” – Sunflower and Olivia Rosenberg
Nineteen years. That’s how long it’s been since the invincible towers fell. This grief is two years older than Tabby’s Place itself.
If we let it, strangeness can simplify us. Good news: we’ve been given a bumper crop of strangeness.
This being Labor Day and all, your normal blogular programming has been suspended. Fortunately, you’re getting something better.
You gave us wonder and splendor. You gave us the return of Bill and Ted (see above). You gave us the feast day of St. Augustine, and the annual pondering as to whether or not his friends called him “Gus.” You gave us an uncommonly high volume of marmalade cats.
Late have I loved you, unrelenting autumn. But this year, even when it’s hard to fare forward, there’s a certain comfort in being able to fall into your arms.