You may be vaccinated. You may be agitated. But spring, and hope, and cats are marching on, and I hope you’ll come along.
Actor and singing powerhouse Billy Porter has a name that puts me in mind of entertainment legends Billie Holiday and Cole Porter. I wonder whether this was intentional or a happy accident. Without knowing one way or the other, Schrodinger would accept my stipulation that both are simultaneously true.
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?
If you aren’t familiar with J.J. Abrams and Jordan Peele (in alphabetical order to be fair), now is a good time to get up to speed. G’head…I’ll wait.
This being Labor Day and all, your normal blogular programming has been suspended. Fortunately, you’re getting something better.
Yes, that is my Clorox2 that I accidentally left on the counter. No, please don’t touch it to hand it to me. You shouldn’t have done that.
It has come to my attention that the verb “flex” has returned to popular parlance. This pleases me — and at least 100 cats I know — immensely.
Love comes in all shapes, sizes, colors, vectors, and ways. Love can grow slowly, strengthening with time and togetherness. Love can creep up on us like a cat on the prowl, knocking us off our feet, taking our breath away, and leaving us wondering what hit us after it escapes out grasp.