Random things...
Mad Max:Fury Road may be the best action film I've ever seen. Thanks, George Miller for writing Furiosa -- she's in the same league with Ripley.
I just ordered "Dog TV" for my cat. $4.99 a month so my cat can watch television. It is the end of days.
Speaking of which...
Aunt Olive passed away a little over a year ago; she was 100 years old (plus a couple of weeks). She always said she just wanted to make it 100, and she did. Her mind was still sharp until right near the end, and then she just started talking about her grandmother, her childhood, and her brother. She was always a woman who I looked up to. She never married, only dated a few men, designed her own house, owned and operated a small loan business, and lived life on her terms. I do miss her, but I talk about her all the time.
Annie bought her house, so it's like I'm still visiting Aunt Olive. Even though Annie doesn't care, I have a hard time cutting through the yard (you're supposed to use the sidewalk) and going upstairs to the loft/bedroom (you have to ask permission). Annie's even turning into Aunt Olive a bit. I'll call and ask what's going on, and she responds, "There's a funeral today." The house is directly behind a funeral home, and the large windows make it impossible to not know that. Aunt Olive would always keep us up to date. Now Annie does.
I've been diagnosed with Interstitial Cyctitis (and still have Crohn's disease); it's kept me down for almost three years. Getting the diagnosis was a relief, until a second opinion told me I didn't have it. A third opinion seven months later told me I did. Once the doctors made up their minds, I found myself in physical therapy, eating a very restrictive diet, and taking more anxiety medication than one person needs (but it all helps). I'm hoping for a fairly restful summer; I'm only teaching one class online (so I can pay my taxes). Perhaps I can feel well enough to go for walks with my cat.
Oh, yeah...Frank. The sweetest little black ball of fur who got adopted when he showed up on the front porch (and then the back porch), and who will murder all the other cats in the neighborhood if he's left to his own devices. Well, he doesn't really murder them, but he does love to beat 'em up. He's named after Frank Castle, the Punisher, because he's black with a little white fur on his chest, and like the last Greg Rucka written comic, has an eye that has been lost in battle. He's currently on lockdown in the back bedrooms; he can come out and wander, but he has to be monitored. Once yard is over, we go back to his room for his nightly beating. He's getting an outside pen, so he can enjoy the outdoors without risk of injuring the rest of the feline population.
Okay, I'm hungry. Off to find something bland for dinner (but I do think there's ice cream for dessert)!
I just ordered "Dog TV" for my cat. $4.99 a month so my cat can watch television. It is the end of days.
Speaking of which...
Aunt Olive passed away a little over a year ago; she was 100 years old (plus a couple of weeks). She always said she just wanted to make it 100, and she did. Her mind was still sharp until right near the end, and then she just started talking about her grandmother, her childhood, and her brother. She was always a woman who I looked up to. She never married, only dated a few men, designed her own house, owned and operated a small loan business, and lived life on her terms. I do miss her, but I talk about her all the time.
Annie bought her house, so it's like I'm still visiting Aunt Olive. Even though Annie doesn't care, I have a hard time cutting through the yard (you're supposed to use the sidewalk) and going upstairs to the loft/bedroom (you have to ask permission). Annie's even turning into Aunt Olive a bit. I'll call and ask what's going on, and she responds, "There's a funeral today." The house is directly behind a funeral home, and the large windows make it impossible to not know that. Aunt Olive would always keep us up to date. Now Annie does.
I've been diagnosed with Interstitial Cyctitis (and still have Crohn's disease); it's kept me down for almost three years. Getting the diagnosis was a relief, until a second opinion told me I didn't have it. A third opinion seven months later told me I did. Once the doctors made up their minds, I found myself in physical therapy, eating a very restrictive diet, and taking more anxiety medication than one person needs (but it all helps). I'm hoping for a fairly restful summer; I'm only teaching one class online (so I can pay my taxes). Perhaps I can feel well enough to go for walks with my cat.
Oh, yeah...Frank. The sweetest little black ball of fur who got adopted when he showed up on the front porch (and then the back porch), and who will murder all the other cats in the neighborhood if he's left to his own devices. Well, he doesn't really murder them, but he does love to beat 'em up. He's named after Frank Castle, the Punisher, because he's black with a little white fur on his chest, and like the last Greg Rucka written comic, has an eye that has been lost in battle. He's currently on lockdown in the back bedrooms; he can come out and wander, but he has to be monitored. Once yard is over, we go back to his room for his nightly beating. He's getting an outside pen, so he can enjoy the outdoors without risk of injuring the rest of the feline population.
Okay, I'm hungry. Off to find something bland for dinner (but I do think there's ice cream for dessert)!