Saturday, April 24, 2010

Saturday Musings

Right now, Michael Buble' is singing into my ear. Oh, how he croons. I have the house to myself so I can croon along with certain vigor.  I should probably close the windows so I don't get any pesky autograph requests from the neighbor dogs.

"Other arms reach out to meeeee, other eyes smile tendeeerllyyyyy, still in peaceful dreams I see the road leads back to youuuuuu."

Buble' is quite different from these aging rockers and their haunting performance in Madison Square Garden last year. Delicious, minus the Hawaiian shirt.

Back to business.

I have a few pictures to share with you today, my faithful few. My Semper Fi's if you will.  The trusty iPhone was in my back pocket all day to whip out in case I ran across anything note worthy, like Barack Obama or a giraffe.  But mainly, there are pictures of The Cat. I have candy in my pockets if you'll stay until the end.

Ol' Peg-leg Pauley. I would imagine he was picked dead last in basket-ball with those gams.

Mary Kay, West Virginia style.

The kind of pants that sends dad into a frenzy. "You mean you paid money for jeans that look junked?"

The backyard. Pretty, no?

Oh look! A furry visitor is lurking!

He's my little widget, love bucket, silly sally, Sir Winston Churchill, ninny pot, Ezekiel. All legitimate names, all spoken before 2 pm this afternoon.

"Yes, Bentley-Eugene? Have you found employment yet? No? Shocking. Does all this breathing business make you tired? Thought so. See you in 20."

Here Bentley learned his car was being repo'd outside.

Aladdin on his stained, magic carpet.


  1. Thank you for reinforcing my disdain for cats, especially ones that do not contribute to society.

  2. Ha! You're welcome, Curtis. And this one is extra special in the regard. He's a two-ton loser.

  3. Did you read the article on Yahoo! today, "Are $200 jeans worth it?" I didn't read, but thought you might tell me what it said. I'm sure at least some of the $200 jeans have holes.

  4. Oh I'm sure, Tammy. The good pairs always do. I never listen to dad dispensing fashion advice anyway.