Not everything free is worth the price. If someone offers you free advice, a free towel emblazoned with the faces of all five members of N’Sync, or a “free food,” you’d best consult your most trusted advisors. By whom, of course, I mean the Law Offices of Baby, Albus, Cola and Hagrid.
You can’t wait out your whole life under an awning waiting for the rain to end. I suppose you could, but then you’d miss the ice cream man. Cole would never miss the ice cream man.
I’m going to let you in on a secret. We’re all a bunch of miracles around here. We are simultaneously a bunch of buffoons. Ergo: it is high time to blow up the biggest, brightest balloons.
Once upon a time, in the not-so-very long ago, a reasonably young couple moved to a convenient, in-between-where-they-needed-to-be-separately-during-the-day place. This first shared residence was a very small, very rented, very temporary townhouse that was made complete by the addition of a tortie 15-week-old and a tuxedo 2-year-old of the feline species.
Not everything that happens is good. Loss lurches across all of our borders. Stores continue selling high-waisted jeans. Mumford and Sons refuses to make new music. Diagnoses drag us through canyons of mud. But everything that happens has the prefix “Professor,” if only we’ll show up for class.
If witches have “familiars” (cats, toads, bats, senators, etc.), we — whatever we are at Tabby’s Place — have “peculiars.” Halloween has come. Halloween has gone. All Saints and All Souls have made their annual appearance. But holidays are perpetual at the Place called Tabby’s, and we’re rich in treats and tricksters, holy mischief-makers and […]