It’s amazing how one cat can watch the other cat being given a bath, and just not realize that they’re next. Commie watched Trouble receive her bath — in fact, he got up on his tippy-toes so he could look into the bathtub and get an eyeful of the proceedings. It was almost like he was laughing at her. “Look what Mommy and Daddy are doing to you, Trouble! I’m sure glad I’m over here, a foot away, where I’m completely safe! Ha ha ha!” But overall, Trouble was the. . . Read More!
Driving home tonight, I was treated to some unknown pop group’s fresh new rendition of “Big Yellow Taxi.” How many times does this song need to be redone? I’ve heard like 5 versions of it already, and “BYT” is not a song I have ever sought out. In this particular version, apparently they thought to change it up a little by using some different notes than the original. And add some syllabubs here and there. (I meant syllable, not syllabub. I’ll give a quarter to the first person who gets. . . Read More!
A conversation with a friend yesterday got me to thinking about some things. We’ve all been told it’s not OK to discriminate against somebody because of their race, gender, handicap… anything that’s beyond their control. But when it comes to peoples’ personal choices, apparently it’s open season for scorn, derision and downright nastiness. You see, I’ve decided to not have children. When people find this out, there’s apparently some unspoken signal that it’s now open season on my choice. I understand that a lot of people have a hard time. . . Read More!
I love to travel, but I also love coming back home at the end of a trip. The cats are overly affectionate, I slept great in my own bed, I can sit quietly with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Some brief notes about the grand voyage — first off, Arizona. Mesa, to be specific. It’s part of the “Greater Phoenix Metroplex,” which means that Phoenix is in the middle of a big ol’ circle, and there are tons of other cities ringing it: Mesa, Chandler, Gilbert, Scottsdale, Glendale…. . . Read More!
Yesterday, we went to help with the construction/deconstruction at Jet City Improv’s new home, the Historic University Theater. While they were working at making the offices habitable upstairs, Scott and I were charged with hanging a door. Now for those of you who know me, I probably don’t strike you as a very constructionally-inclined individual. Though you may be interested to know that I brought more tools into the marriage than Mr. Meyer. At any rate, it turns out that though we’ve both had passing acquaintance with tools, neither of. . . Read More!