I am not responsible for the content of the above ads, which are often hilariously mis-matched.

www.flickr.com Isaac Photos

hi mom

So, the problem with having your mom read your blog is that if you don't post for a couple of days, she gets worried.

I'm fine, mom.

I've also become obsessed with elves. The weird ones with the plastic heads and folding legs that we had all around our tree back in the 70s. Of course, in my stupid 20s, I told my mom that she could get rid of them when they sold their house. Ach! Stupid!

So, now I'm looking at them on ebay and planning to do a little thrift store shopping, because I've decided that the key to having a good Christmas is a metric buttload of elves. Or something. I have ten little elf heads already, to reproduce the wreath from the cover of Merry Kitschmas. Be afaid.

There was one Christmas when our cat, EB, was going through a weird post-fixing phase where she thought that the elves were kittens, and she carried them around the house and hid them in various places. I don't think this will be an issue for Clyde.

Clyde has been a big ball of sneezing this week, so tomorrow morning we're loading her into the Carrier of Doom and taking her to see VetMan. I'm hoping she just has something minor; her eyes are clear and her appetite and energy level have been reasonably good up until today. Dennis thought she was getting a bit sluggish and not attacking her tuna with her usual enthusiasm, so it's off to the stainless steel table for her.

I'm all over the place emotionally this week. Like a ferret. Over here! Over there! Still dealing with losing my grandmother, and tomorrow I'm taking the fairy godchild and her mom and her cat to the airport so they can go to their new life in Montana (dad and the dog are already there, trying to figure out where we packed certain essential pieces of the desk), which will mean that they're really actually leaving. Also, I have skool this weekend, so I'm stomping down the ol' fear response there. I've gotten some papers written, at least, but there will be groveling. The thing that rocks, though, is Dennis. Dennis is a rocking thing. He's been so good to me this week.
link | Comments []

[back to top]

current