October holds our hand so we’re not too scared to walk into the cold. She blesses the dark with orange and gold. She Halloweens us. She presses our trembling fingers into November’s paw, a knot of Saints and Souls. And in November, we remember: we are always living in Times Like These.
There must be some hidden hoard of helium in the walls of Tabby’s Place. How else to explain the ups and downs of August, our hearts bobbing like airships?
I’m a lifelong insomniac, and there are certain questions I ask at night. What would it look like if we all really believed we were beloved? Is it possible to perform (enact? commit?) a single shenanigan? Why haven’t Pancake and/or Sammy been adopted yet?
It’s all too redundant to talk about These Terrible Times. But what do you do when your particular times haven’t been particularly terrible?
This snow kitten is 100% ready for cooler weather. The invigorating nip in the air; the burst of colors in shades of gold, bronze, red, yellow, and orange; plaid flannel.
More than ever before, we are hearing from the stridently this or vociferously that crowds. This is clearly right. That is clearly wrong. There can be no in between. This side or that side. If you’re not with me, you’re against me. Life is seldom so clear. Even when it is at its foundation, there […]
As proven by its occasional rhapsodizing about Alan Alda and One Direction, this blog is not generally pinned to the pulse of celebrity news. But this week’s star sorrow demands a response. The world has lost its beloved Black Panther, Chadwick Boseman.
When your season arrives, you know. But until then, oh my stars, reality can be one ill-fitting suit.