I’m sitting out here enjoying what must be the first utterly pleasant weather we’ve had in ages. The dog is eating grass. The orange cat is scrutinizing the inscrutable and the tiny cat is inside because she went out yesterday for ten minutes and that seemed to fill her quota of fresh air for the next little bit.
I talked to the Man from GM yesterday afternoon and a couple we’ve known forever has been married sixty years. I was thinking that, at our age, the chances of us ever finding someone and being married for sixty years are slim and none.
The Man from GM said, “Thirty good years are better than sixty bad ones.”
True enough. If the Man from GM can find himself a woman who will put up with his shit, he will stick with her like glue.
Do y’all remember that weird thing from when we were kids that was like a tube of balloon rubber filled with slime and, I guess, the whole point was that it felt weird and kind of turned in on itself like some tiny hypothetical universe shape?
Well, that is what the orange cat looks like as he stretches out along the slats of the porch, like he has no bones at all, but is just a big bag of cat.
Tiny Cat Pants 
You mean the water snake?
In my sad little one bedroom apartment, I am hooking up wireless DSL. How sad is that? Ooooh! now I can blog from my bedroom & the couch (which, incidentally, is only about 20 feet away) – Now I can be super cool & blog wirelessly too! Though, my cats (who are reading your blog over my shoulder) just told me all about their envy of your cats. Who do these nashville Cats think they are?! Rolling in the grass, enjoying fresh air…. when all the City Cats get is a peek out the window & the occassional dumb shit bird who has no idea where he’s going? (no doubt something to do with pollution affecting their tiny little birdie brains). Ok, not sure where this post came from. I need me some sleep. Bad.
Nashville Cats, play clean as country waterNashville Cats, play wild as mountain dewNashville Cats, been playin’ since they’s babiesNashville Cats, get work before they’re two.Those funky slime-filled rubber torus thingies were exceptional because you couldn’t hold on to them. If you tried to pass them from hand to hand, they just slipped between your fingers and fell to the floor.I think it was supposed to be some metaphor about hopelessness that was intended to disenfranchise and depress the youth of America.I just thought they felt like simulating masturbation, and why the hell would you want to SIMULATE that?!
Kids? Kids?!?Up until a few weeks ago I still had one to the right of me on my desk. I know it’s migrated to somewhere else around here. God only knows where.
I just bought one for an undergrad’s 21st birthday. And, in a moment that made me feel awkwardly matronly, he told me that his mother bought him a "build your own one" kit.