What to give the Tuesday who has everything
If you have ever given anything to any charity anywhere, today your inbox is full. The unifying message: today is Giving Tuesday GIVING TUESDAY #GIVINGTUESDAY!!!
The Dood abides
There’s a lie that’s been going around since the dawn of time. It goes something like this: “there is no reason for you.”
Farrah wings
Cats are gleefully non-self-explanatory. So it’s only right that their names are often shrouded in mystery.
Safety orange redux
Someone call the great fashion houses of Paris and Milan. Functional fashion has had its day. Ours is the age of skin-deep declaration. We’re not talking tattoos; this is about wearing your essence in every pore.
Sullivan…ne
We all have moments when we just aren’t sure who we are: Am I a kindergartner trapped in an adult’s body? Am I a ballerina trapped in a Development Director’s body? Should I be wandering the wide green hills of County Sligo right now? But sometimes, we know exactly who we are. It’s the dunderheads […]
You were not wrong
You were not wrong to think that things could change. You were not wrong to want more than you’d let yourself want before.
Tara Talk guest post: Herding cats
How did a whole month go by? It’s a testament to Development Director Angela’s patience that she keeps letting me write here, given how often I tell her that “A Simba update is coming!”, only to lose it in my scattered brain. All I can say is that time flies when you’re herding cats.
Epilogues: October 2018
November arrives full of “alls.” Yesterday was All Saints Day. (The cats celebrated themselves appropriately.) Today is All Souls Day. (The cats snickered “bless your soul” at us inappropriately.) And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, we’re lavished with the luscious “alls” of 125 Tabby’s Place residents in all their muchness.
The good ship Jack
I’m a firm believer that your ship has not sailed without you. If something is vanishing over the horizon, it was not your ship. If you don’t believe me, I’m afraid you don’t know Jack.
Thunderstruck
When you enter Suite C, you expect to be greeted by a thundering herd. You do not, however, expect to have your heart shot straight into the sky, only to land in a 14-year-old calico’s paws.