Alright - moving on from the hilarity and anguish of knitters vs. the olympics. I enjoyed it - maybe too much, as I think many readers moved on. Oh well - you're still here!
Meanwhile, we're in the final prep for our yearly pilgrimage to the southeast, so I don't have time to write. Must. Clean. Bathrooms. Cleaning because my friend Chris and her daughter are coming to housesit again for the week, escaping from the burning inferno that is Phoenix. It's a great arrangement - they love to come back and visit their friends here, the dog and cats and fish are happy and at home, and I can leave knowing that all will be well. But I do need to pick up here and there so they can find the beds at least.
In the meantime, I'll share my latest crush with you as you're really a close personal friend, really. He's tall, dark and um, furry. Likes to walk around without a shirt. He doesn't talk much, or at all, actually, but communicates soulfully with his eyes and paws. He can be a bear about matches and fire and that kind of thing, but he has a good heart. We meet daily at the Museum and I sing him the Smokey song and he dances for me. It's true love.
a'howling and a'growling and a'sniffing the air...
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