It’s not an election year (saints and angels be praised), but we’re always at an inflection point. Will we draw angry chalk lines on our driveways like petulant children, or will we remember that there’s no such thing as “them”?
It is folly to ignore the cry when Nature calls. Now, get your heads out of the lavatory and out of doors instead. (No, not outhouses, and stop being so silly…for the moment.)
Confession time, my friends. Yours truly has what might be classifiable as an obsession with big creatures.
Joshua is a warrior. The walls of Jericho have long since fallen, and the suite hallway is strictly off limits. But, as a fighter, Joshua just keeps on trying.
Hymns and psalms and chorales and chants are all different kinds of songs. All are music to the ears, and at Tabby’s Place, those are just the beginning.
Take it from this fanilow, Barry Manilow’s oeuvre is just like cats (no, not the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical; the actual furbies). Each song is the favorite, and each song is the best.
Consetta arrived quite naked. So did you. Me too. But only one of us is unafraid of the whole business.
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.
Hey, you. Who do you think you are?
Day 43, and I finally gave in… …to my spouse’s requests, fidgetiness, a touch of boredom… …and baked my first COVID-cake.