I went on a date last night. It’s been a while, but not so long that I don’t know what a decent date should be like.
I may not remember what I had for breakfast this morning, but I DO remember, albeit vaguely, what a fun date should be: The warm feels of physical attraction, enjoying an activity with someone, the exciting engagement of like minds, the flutter of joy at meeting someone who has potential to be a significant person in your life, anticipation of what might come.
Today’s adventure: Tales From the RV Park – Stray Cats and Wounded Men. I am at an RV park in southern Alabama. I’ve been here about a year. There are around 100-150 people here, mostly seniors, mostly single. Lots of heavy drinkers. As some of you may recall, I don’t drink any more.
If a cat is petrified and dead, was it scared to death?
(Ahahahaa! I crack me up!)
Seriously, folks, there’s a petrified (dead, not scared) cat in Pensacola. No, I’m not talking about Pye, my bi-polar feline companion for whom I occasionally consider finding a new home… she is alive and well and scratching the crap out of my furniture.
I am talking about a dead cat on display, no less, in a museum. Yup, right here in the good ol’ USA can you find such treasures at the local museum as a petrified (dead, not scared) cat on display.
Happy Friday 5 – Celebrate like nobody’s calling the cops. Quote I’m pondering:
“Can you imagine feeling at home in the world no matter where you are? If you eventually master this art, outer circumstances won’t distort your relationship with yourself. No matter how crazy or chaotic the people around you might be, you will remain rooted in your unshakable sense of purpose; you will respond to any given situation in ways that make you both calm and alert, amused and curious, compassionate for the suffering of others and determined to do what’s best for you. If you think these are goals worth seeking, you can make dramatic progress toward them in the coming weeks.”
This post is a selection of random photos from around Texas. Some I’ve had for a long time, but there hardly seemed enough story about any one of them to form a whole post by themselves. Then I had the brilliant idea to lump all the mini posts into one… Hence, the title: Picking fly turds out of pepper.
Last night I gave her regular bowl of kibbles. As usual, she hopped up to the RV dash and started eating. I went back to doing my usual – something that included sitting on the couch. A minute later there is a huge commotion from the RV dash and Pye is scrambling to get away from the area, leaping over furniture.