The Small Gods in Cages
Good Lord. Miette of Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast has commented. Honestly, I am not worthy. If you love podcasts, hustle yourself over to her place. Love her.
I have spent the last week not watching craigslist's employment section until my eyeballs bleed.
Ahhhh. Today I sort out my wardrobe and see what I need and what ought to go and make preparations to not worry too much about clothes during this episode of my career. At some point I will have to face up to shopping, so are there any volunteers to come with me to steer me away from all things orange, embroidered or be-bustled? Anyone? Hallo?
Yesterday I spent cruising pet shelters, looking for a sweet small dog for my sister Heather. It was rather illuminating and not an altogether bad way to spend a day. I made the mistake of taking Barbara along, but it was all right until she felt she had to put in her two cents on what dog would be perfect for my mentally-disabled sibling, for which she got the youhavenoideawhat youaretalkingabout speech. Other than that it was fantastic fun. Maybe even the speech was fun. (FYI: Barbara has started drinking rather early in the mornings these days.)
Barbara Darling has never met Heather. If you have never spent time with Heather, you can't understand the situation. After a lifetime together I don't even pretend to comprehend her thinking. Heather is the Enigma of our lives. But, man, does she adore dogs. All dogs.
The San Francisco SPCA is located in a south of Market building nicer than most public schools and Oakland's is very nice as well. Berkeley's could really use some funding and attention. At the Oakland shelter I met a vivacious little dog by the name of Max who was quite charming.
The shelter was having a promotion of black and black/white cats (which are is the least adopted colors) so of course one must inspect. All the cats were fully adults, no kittens. It strikes me that while kittens can be adorable and charming, fully grown cats (my own cat Shred excluded) have a majesty and elegance that is really appealing. Easy to see why the Egyptians found the protectors of grain stores (and therefore the economy and the well-being of the public) godlike. So here I was, walking down row after row of luminous silky gods in small cages.
On the way out the door, one of the shelter officials/wardens was cuddling a very young, very large pinkish/white-ish pit bull puppy that was shivering in fright, wrapped in a pale blue blanket. We had to stand and cuddle and coo at this puppy for a very long time, as he was just the most sweetest little beastie ever. What is it with the smell and texture of puppies? Extra silky soft skin and that sucrose-rich breath that makes one coo and salivate a little more than can be explained easily.
I have spent the last week not watching craigslist's employment section until my eyeballs bleed.
Ahhhh. Today I sort out my wardrobe and see what I need and what ought to go and make preparations to not worry too much about clothes during this episode of my career. At some point I will have to face up to shopping, so are there any volunteers to come with me to steer me away from all things orange, embroidered or be-bustled? Anyone? Hallo?
Yesterday I spent cruising pet shelters, looking for a sweet small dog for my sister Heather. It was rather illuminating and not an altogether bad way to spend a day. I made the mistake of taking Barbara along, but it was all right until she felt she had to put in her two cents on what dog would be perfect for my mentally-disabled sibling, for which she got the youhavenoideawhat youaretalkingabout speech. Other than that it was fantastic fun. Maybe even the speech was fun. (FYI: Barbara has started drinking rather early in the mornings these days.)
Barbara Darling has never met Heather. If you have never spent time with Heather, you can't understand the situation. After a lifetime together I don't even pretend to comprehend her thinking. Heather is the Enigma of our lives. But, man, does she adore dogs. All dogs.
The San Francisco SPCA is located in a south of Market building nicer than most public schools and Oakland's is very nice as well. Berkeley's could really use some funding and attention. At the Oakland shelter I met a vivacious little dog by the name of Max who was quite charming.
The shelter was having a promotion of black and black/white cats (which are is the least adopted colors) so of course one must inspect. All the cats were fully adults, no kittens. It strikes me that while kittens can be adorable and charming, fully grown cats (my own cat Shred excluded) have a majesty and elegance that is really appealing. Easy to see why the Egyptians found the protectors of grain stores (and therefore the economy and the well-being of the public) godlike. So here I was, walking down row after row of luminous silky gods in small cages.
On the way out the door, one of the shelter officials/wardens was cuddling a very young, very large pinkish/white-ish pit bull puppy that was shivering in fright, wrapped in a pale blue blanket. We had to stand and cuddle and coo at this puppy for a very long time, as he was just the most sweetest little beastie ever. What is it with the smell and texture of puppies? Extra silky soft skin and that sucrose-rich breath that makes one coo and salivate a little more than can be explained easily.
Comments