Someone said to me recently, she’s my Girl Friday. I thought—that’s a weird thing to say. Is that from a book, I asked. No clue. Well, it’s Friday. I like to have my Friday posts. I have two things to say. One, Leah is in Winnipeg for a conference so I am bored and lonely. Give me a call, let’s go do something. Two, I can officially announce that I was promoted at my office to Senior Editor / Editorial Trainer.
I hope you have an excellent weekend. I think I am probably going to play a lot of Civilization 4.
I am feeling a bit conflicted today. I feel like JD. JD is a very conflicted cat. He just can’t seem to figure out what he wants. For instance, he doesn’t know what to think of Elly. The other day JD was laying down, all spread out and I put Elly next to him to keep her warm, to snuggle. It was very cute. I got a couple of pictures—I will have to upload them. He seemed to momentarily tolerate her but then he started to lick her and he was looking very paternal. And I said Awwww, so cute. He didn’t like that. He clamped down on her with his teeth. But he didn’t do it too hard. He didn’t like that. So he went back to licking. Then he bit her again. Finally, he got up and walked away. Loves her or hates her, he doesn’t know.
I did a Google Image search for “communist bicyle” and I didn’t get much. I did another search for “communist” and I got this image. I love image search. It’s so fantastic. That’s where I get the majority of the pictures for this site. This has nothing to do with what I am going to write about today. Just thought I would let you know.
If you are sad and you know it buy a kitty. If you are sad and you know it buy a kitty. If you are sad and you know and you really want to show it, if you are sad and you know it buy a kitty or find someone who discovered a litter of kitties in the alley and needs to get rid of them…
I think I have come to understand that the fear silence invokes is because we are not sure if we are dead or alive. If I don’t make noise, am I really here? Yet, this is no time for me to give up on paradoxes. I haven’t lost hope that in death there is life. Just as in silence, there is noise—just a different kind.
Dad built a dog-run in the back yard. We got Charlie from the pound and I don’t think he appreciated going back into a cage. We left him in the run for the day. I remember coming home from school (grade 4?), going down the alley so that I could go directly to the run and get Charlie out. I found it empty. I ran to the front door and there was Charlie sitting on the front step. Waiting for someone to come home. He rocked the latch on the door until he could get out. He didn’t run away. He just didn’t want to be in a cage. The dog-run has sat empty ever since.