By the time I finish writing this the polls will be open. One of my friends referred to it as an old white man contest.
I’ve been quiet lately— struggling with an outbreak of ringworm among the kittens and teenager #1 and I. We moved The Norse Pride of foster kittens from Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab into my room and The Roman Pride into teenager #1’s room. The hope is that this will increase the Romans’ trust in humans.
Meanwhile… I lost my bedfellow Fog (which distresses me greatly and he is obviously upset about it and then teenager #1 made him wear a bow tie so I may never be forgiven) and gained scenes like this:
Teenager #1 insisted they were too small and too tame to harass the birds… so I suppose this is my imagination.
But in other news, my neighbor and I had a tea party last night. She has started using her mother’s tea pot and I have fancy tea cups and even fancier jams so we joined forces.
And this was after I made lemon butter caper gravy for dinner so all in all if nothing else it was a tasty day.
Teenager #1 explained to Teenager #2 that my food and television choices are a barometer of my mood. When I’m watching Gordon Ramsay my mental health is strong, but when I’m watching Hoarders I’m trying to feel better about myself.
By those rules, what does it mean that I binge-watched the entire series of Good Girls this weekend?
Speaking of this weekend, it felt so good to attend a football game. Here is the halftime show: Wilson Warrior Marching Band Avatar
What did not feel so good was the fall I took Friday night. I fell with all my weight on my right hand so my palm, wrist and thumb are all bruised. And I elbowed myself in the ribs— not quite hard enough to qualify for a bruised rib but hard enough so my right side hurts and I can’t lay on it. Or cough. But that’s how life goes when you are a clutz with cerebral palsy.
Have a great day.