This lemony year has taken many things from us, while simultaneously hoarding all the sugar and Splenda so as to prevent us from making lemonade. But what do Tabby’s Place kittens do with lemons? They throw them out the window and make some righteous tuna salad.
…you just need simple goodness. I’m talking ripe strawberries. Turquoise skies. Your favorite, achingly soft T-shirt. The news that Bill and Ted are back and more excellent than ever.
I’ve been hemming and hawing over how much to talk about it here. You know, that thing. That pandemic.
You, dear human beans, give me hope. It’s my fervent hope that you give yourselves hope, too.
The cookies are eaten. The gifts are unwrapped. Our hearts are half-splendor, half-melancholy. Christmas is over.
It’s Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve, so I’ll let my words be few: Thank you.
There’s a cry the size of Santa’s belly out there this time of year. Comfort me.
True fact: I am not only a daft, dunderheaded blogger, but also the Development Director (fancy word for Money Raisin’ Person) at Tabby’s Place. Also true: Jonathan pays me primarily for the latter.
I sure hope you didn’t reckon on fishin’ this weekend. Sure, it’s flounder season and all. But the weather is wet and woolly, with wee ones more wondrous than all the ocean.
When we were wee, we were told that good children got Popples and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Theologian Trading Cards.* Bad little imps, on the other hand, got lumps of coal. But the tellers of tales didn’t account for the game-changing gift of Coal.