Things NOT TO DO on a Saturday
Procrastinating. Tons of paper to shift, read, act on and I'm puttin' it off even though I scheduled this for TODAY. Instead, well, just about anything instead.
My cats do not have green eyes but I suspect they may suffer from Green Eyed Monster
That is my only explanation for their utter facination for my reading and writing exercises of the morning routine. Aside from the blog - of which I've been most neglectful, I journal on a daily basis. There is a bit of a ritual with this, I've a special fountain pen (remember those, with real ink?) and a book. The cats watch the cursive scroll with utter facination. Too, there is a clock, a wall clock that is currently resting on a side board thing. It has no covering on its face and since one of the hands extends BEYOND the clock-face by a 1/2 inch, I'm quite sure there was never an intention of having it contained behind glass/plastic. In any case, the cats will jump up and study the moving sweep hand and creeping minute hand with fixation usually only stimulated by bug snaring. They really do look like they are trying to get a cat-handle on those things which seem to occupy we humans to a large extent: Communication and Time.
OK, before I launch into a philosophical discourse about "time", "What is it?"; "Is it continuous or discreet?"; "What does it really mean?", I shall Face the Music and as Irvine Berling so eloquently added: "And Dance". Heck, if you've got good music, you might just as well, eh?
PS, I hope “my-niece-the-Librarian” sends “the boy child” AKA the nephew, home with jars of Mrs. Rienfrew’s Green Salsa!
My cats do not have green eyes but I suspect they may suffer from Green Eyed Monster
That is my only explanation for their utter facination for my reading and writing exercises of the morning routine. Aside from the blog - of which I've been most neglectful, I journal on a daily basis. There is a bit of a ritual with this, I've a special fountain pen (remember those, with real ink?) and a book. The cats watch the cursive scroll with utter facination. Too, there is a clock, a wall clock that is currently resting on a side board thing. It has no covering on its face and since one of the hands extends BEYOND the clock-face by a 1/2 inch, I'm quite sure there was never an intention of having it contained behind glass/plastic. In any case, the cats will jump up and study the moving sweep hand and creeping minute hand with fixation usually only stimulated by bug snaring. They really do look like they are trying to get a cat-handle on those things which seem to occupy we humans to a large extent: Communication and Time.
OK, before I launch into a philosophical discourse about "time", "What is it?"; "Is it continuous or discreet?"; "What does it really mean?", I shall Face the Music and as Irvine Berling so eloquently added: "And Dance". Heck, if you've got good music, you might just as well, eh?
PS, I hope “my-niece-the-Librarian” sends “the boy child” AKA the nephew, home with jars of Mrs. Rienfrew’s Green Salsa!
posted by pingcat at
7/22/2006 12:05:00 PM
1 Comments:
Yes, life is ironic with the "Ping-Thing", especially since I cannot command my dang 'puter to do anything, except what it wants. Wish I could go fly but always the case, if I've time, I've no $$$, if I have $$$, I've no time. My flying fixes come vicariously through people like quodlibet, Sean and a few others. For now, that will do ... "one of these days Alice...POW - to the moon" or places in between ... reminds me of the endless pursuit of my night rating. Many are called but few are...what? capable? Too darned dark to fly at night and I'm pretty sure it is unnatural!
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pingcat, at July 22, 2006 3:47 PM
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