Whenever Minx is ready to lie down, he performs the most graceless flop I’ve ever seen on a cat.
Until Saturday, when I saw Magnus execute the same manuever, even less gracefully than Minx does. (An accomplishment in itself, if I may say so.)
The mind boggles at what else “Uncle Minx” may have taught Magnus. I think I’m happier not knowing.
“Keep pushing, Li. One more, and I’ll share!”
*Don’t visualize
My personal theory of yard maintenance has been one of benign neglect—or, depending on how you look at it, a ruthlessly Darwinian experiment in breeding better weeds. To say that I’m not good with plants is an understatement of epic proportions. I recently discovered that my fake plant is dropping leaves.
So, I was delighted to the very tips of my black thumbs at some horticulturally-ept friends’ offer to redo the landscaping. Last night, Housemate and an H-E Friend lay about with pruning shears and saws in such a manner as to make Amazonian deforesters look like rank amatuers. It’s amazing how much more spacious the area around the patio feels, and we haven’t even gotten rid of the mountain o’ green stuff yet.
It’s very gratifying and stress-banishing to be able to look at someone who knows what he’s doing and say, “You’re the expert. Do whatever you think is right,” and be pleased with even an interim result. I can’t possibly say it enough, but I will say it publicly—thanks a million, guys!
Despite the fact that work continues to be interesting—sometimes in a good way and sometimes not so much—life is quite peaceful these days.
I’m sleeping in my newly-painted-and-decorated master bedroom, without a TV in it, thank you very much. Housemate continues to make himself eminently helpful, the cats continue to be adorable, friends continue to be wonderful, I’m getting back to the gym more frequently—and not just to play on the waterslides. I’m into my run-up to yoga teacher boot camp (100 hours of training in four weeks), and have nearly finished all my reading; I could finish up on the plane if I had to, with time to spare.
If someone hadn’t copyrighted the phrase, I’d say that life is good.
This is Brenda’s recipe, not mine, but I have taste-tested it , and give it two forks up.
Sift dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Make three depressions in the dry ingredients. Put vanilla in one, vinegar in one and shortening in the other. Pour water over the top of the mixture and stir until mixed well. Pour batter into a prepared 9 x 13 pan. Bake 25 to 30 min @ 350 degrees. (For glass pan bake @ 325 degrees.) Cool completely. Frost with fudge or chocolate icing.
Not only is my family great game-players, we’re also great kibbitzers. Also, we’re far too smart for our own good, which is why my Uncle C. and Cousin S. aren’t allowed on the same Trivial Pursuit team.
Although, sometimes, it doesn’t matter.
Uncle C: (Reading question card) What John Travolta movie includes the song “Disco Duck.”
Cousin S: I know it was in Howard the Duck…
Me: (Kibbitzing) That was Lea Thompson, not John Travolta.
Cousin J: Even this late at night, I know the difference between John Travolta and Lea Thompson.
Uncle C: Was there a sequel to Saturday Night Fever?
Cousin M: (Who is playing an entirely different game in the next room) I know!
Uncle C: And we have now lost all respect for you.
Me: I wonder what percentage of fireworks injuries are alcohol-related.
Coworker: All of them.
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