I posted a TV Meme just before, here.
I've had a very productive day. First, I found my shorts and bathing suits -- for what purpose, I'm sure I don't know -- and tried them on. Most of the shorts, okay, but that's because I weeded them out viciously last summer. There were three bathing suits, all at least five years old: two Kohl's cheapies and one really good one from the bathing suit store. The cheapies were ... omigod; apparently, I am the world's greatest cultivator of back fat, not to mention sagging everything else. As for the third suit ... well, I can keep it. I am not yet my Grandma Sadie in a bathing suit -- a story for another day -- and I'll probably never need to wear it anyway. I may take a dip to cool off at the hotel in Florida next month.
More basement moving stuff, including all of R's boxes down from the living room. And a trip to recycling. And for the last hour or so, taking the hard drives out of very old computers that are going to reycling tomorrow. I had to whack the hell out of the two desktops to get the hard drives loose, but what surprised me was that I couldn't even find the hard drive in one of the laptops. At least it won't take up much space to store as is, and when school starts, one of the teachers has a son who works for the Geek Squad, so I'll pay the kid some bucks to pull the hard drive out of it for me. I'm sure he can figure it out.
The painters, so they claim, are coming on Thursday. A story to follow along.
So, my Chum has looked over my Moogie story and does not think that she's the one to illustrate it. I'm not surprised; although she can draw some, as any art teacher would have to, drawing is not her chief talent. (She's a potter.) That's okay. When school starts, I'll talk to one of the other art teachers whose skills are in drawing and photography. If she can't do it, I'm sure she can lead me to someone who can. It really would be nice if I could do it myself, though. I can visualize all the illustrations that I want, I just have no capacity at all to get them out of my head and onto paper.
My sister is not a cat person. I don't know that I think of myself as a cat person, but I do have 15 years experience living with one cat or another, and she has only shared her existence with dogs in the past, which makes her most definitely not a cat person.
On Friday, she was in the car with me when I stopped at the groomers to pick up a sweet-smelling Boo and bring him home. Unlike a dog, of course, a cat sits in its box in the car, and does not insist on hanging its head out the window. Boo was very, very quiet, which surprised her. I explained that he cries all the way to the groomers, but is happy on the way home, so, no crying.
She asked a couple of days later if Q is sad all day when Boo is away at the groomer. Uh ... gee, no, I don't think so. I told her that when one of them sees the other one being put into a box for travel, that one immediately takes off at a run, and I'm sure is screaming inside his/her head "IT'S NOT ME! THANK GOD IT'S NOT ME! I DON'T CARE IF THE OTHER ONE DIES; IT'S NOT MEEEEEE!!!"
Those of you with cats, would you concur?
Speaking of cats and dogs, the Sibs told me that the next time I spoke to her firstborn, the nascent king of radio, I must ask him to put his dog on the phone. Uh, okay. When I mentioned this to him, he said he hadn't really had Angel speak to anyone in a while, but he would give it a shot. So he brought her to the phone and said about a dozen times "Hello, Angel! Say hello!" She barked and barked and barked, but eventually, I heard a growl that sounded a lot like "hello." Whether this was actually Angel or the nephew, who has a talent for voices, I could not say. It was pretty damn funny. (She also growls "I love you," or so I have been told.)
