Epilogues: January 2025
Every month in Tabby’s Place history has been majestic. We are in the business of cats, so it cannot be otherwise. But January 2025 shines in a class of its own. Or rather, its Oram.
Every month in Tabby’s Place history has been majestic. We are in the business of cats, so it cannot be otherwise. But January 2025 shines in a class of its own. Or rather, its Oram.
No one gets out of November unscathed: not you, not me, and not the star-crossed onions who gave their lives to surf your Aunt Lurlene’s green bean casserole. Elections cause feelings. Thanksgivings cause feelings. The last chrysanthemum falling to the ground? The poet trees turned naked as prose? Feelings. Feelings. Feelings. The only cure for […]
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.