We make the rules
We are not in control.* We are not as powerful as cats. But we are not entirely helpless.
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We make the rules
We are not in control.* We are not as powerful as cats. But we are not entirely helpless.
Guest post: States of matter
When a cat oozes around your ankles, it is not just a plea for food or attention (oh, it is definitely partly either or both of those). When a cat slides or somersaults down the stairs, it’s not simply to show off beauty and agility (although it is most definitely both of those).
Guest post: Imitating art
There’s a new show called “Connecting.” It’s about friends that are a family, who visit virtually in a variety of ways, and it’s set during now, or at least the extremely recent past. The pandemic, social distancing, excessive togetherness, and extreme aloneness are all addressed. So is online shopping.
Guest post: Cats are
Time to do some exercises. Don’t worry, no heavy lifting involved, nor anything physical actually. These exercises are all of the feel-good, happy-making kind.
Guest post: Quelque Chose de Dangereux
There’s that little something lurking in that corner…not that one…yes, over there. Don’t be afraid, unless you want to be. Maybe you get a little shiver of a thrill from a teensy bit of fear. Not judging.
Guest post: Shades of grey
Life is complicated. Truth is complicated. Looking for simplicity in a sea of tangled webs (how d’ya like that mixed metaphor?) would be futile and most probably frustrating.
Guest post: Free Advice, or You Get What You Pay For or Preaching to the Choir
Part of my job is to make appointment reminder phone calls. Recently, I had a rough conversation with someone who couldn’t tell the difference between 3 disparate groups of people. (Oh, no. Here we go.)
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.