I just drank a soda that was “transformation flavored.” But if it’s growth I’m after, I should have just consulted Pickles Rosenberg, LSW.
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There is a note on my desk reading, “Everything is really, truly OK.” You might say we whisper this over every Tabby’s Place cat. That would be half the story.
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When things go south, as they often do, it’s easy to feel like a stumped, stooped street slug. But South and Hope belong together. Just ask stoop child Charles.
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We all have dirty laundry…literally. Many of us would very much prefer never to be responsible for doing household laundry. It is a chore and a half, and it is never ending. However, upon crossing one very particular threshold, typical preferences have a way of withering into wisps and blowing away completely. The most onerous, […]
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I do not think Wooderson would mind being compared to a turnip. Actually, I do not think Wooderson would mind being compared to a tadpole, or a KFC Double Down, or Grover Cleveland, or anything at all, so long as the one doing the comparing is gazing into his eyes.
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T.S. Eliot, who first discovered that every cat has three names, declared April to be “the cruelest month.” Clearly he did not know the names of Mayhem, Crumpet, or Patches.
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He was just a common kitten. No name, no mother, no letter of recommendation. Just a tangle of tangerine fur, tearful eyes, and a hummingbird’s drumming heart. Just a cluster of “commons.”
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The worst days and the best days are often one and the same, as Charles Dickens knew well. The day that Nemo and I found a different way to spend time together was exactly that. One gazillion percent.
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Prescott is unimpressed with pencils. Like every ageless child, she has a soft spot for crayons. But her heart belongs to markers.
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