The tapes we play
Sing to me, oh resplendent reader. What are the lyrics running like children through your mind-yard today? Are you sure you meant to open the fence?
Guest post: Lounging around
For the past 6 months, many of us have spent an inordinate amount of time wearing out our sofa cushions. Recent reprieve notwithstanding, pajamas are getting threadbare, and sourdough is so 2 months ago.
Guest post: Lizards
Joe Piscopo, local, comedian, actor, portrayer of a lounge lizard. Bill Murray, not at all local, comedian, actor, portrayer of a lounge lizard. Lounge lizards. Crooners. Performers. Bar acts.
A litany of love
When we are afraid, may we be turned into love. When we are excruciatingly squirrelly, may we be turned into love. When the urge to dance to Pitbull’s song about coronavirus overcomes us,* may we be turned into love.
Candace the grandest
All cats are great. All cats are good. Comparison is the thief of joy. But sometimes, dangit, there truly can only be one.
The Donna
Tabby’s Place may or may not have a Diabetic Mafia.* The Diabetic Mafia may or may not have a Don…na.
Epilogues: December 2017
Oh, frisky feisty January. You are longer than your 31 days, starting with fireworks and ending with “finally!” You are the time for cold crunch under our feet and Christmas leftovers gone crusty. You are the month of few holidays and generally muted merriment. But those who live among cats have all the frisk and […]
The flow with which they go
We live in an age of indignation. Much of it is necessary. But much of it is just noxious.
Philosophy and pancreases
In between kissing Bucca’s head and raising money for Bucca all the cats, I thought some existential thoughts this week. These were sparked by adventures in diabetes.