Where there’s a Wilson
“How was I not informed about Wilson?” Our Senior Veterinary Technician was indignant. She churned with righteous indignation. Her hoodie was coated in a downy layer of grey fur.
“How was I not informed about Wilson?” Our Senior Veterinary Technician was indignant. She churned with righteous indignation. Her hoodie was coated in a downy layer of grey fur.
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?
This has not been a normal holiday season. Fortunately, Tabby’s Place contains precisely zero normal cats, normal humans, or normal salamanders. (I can neither confirm nor deny the underground salamander kingdom of Tabby’s Place, nor their effective rule over the rest of us.)
In this life, there are good things that everyone agrees are good (pajamas, Stanley Tucci). There are good things that some good people believe are bad (candy corn, the 2012 Les Misérables). Such persons are still good, despite being wrong. There are ambiguous things that good and bad people can fight about for a good […]
It’s a good thing that multiple rikishi can receive the same prize during a single basho. I know you feel the same way.
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.
Don’t let commercials about rich people getting Christmas Cadillacs make you cynical. These are, in fact, the days of miracle and wonder. And I’ve got 120 cats to back me up.